


Patchwork

by Nyenien



Category: Coraline (2009)
Genre: Adventure, F/M, Friendship, Read Desc, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:53:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 29,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21514843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyenien/pseuds/Nyenien
Summary: What if they shared more than just their appearance? What if they shared their thoughts? Their emotions? Their fears? Their loves? Would it affect them? Would it affect others? Would it change the outcome destiny had chosen for them? Possible WxCxOW.IMPORTANT NOTE: This is a repost! I contacted the original author of this story for permission. If you want to learn more please click check out the notice on this fic.
Relationships: Charlie Jones/Mel Jones, Coraline Jones/The Other Wybie, Coraline Jones/Wybie Lovat, The Other Father/The Other Mother
Comments: 10
Kudos: 64





	1. Notice (Please Read)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Patchwork](https://archiveofourown.org/works/228079) by [GarrulousGibberish (orphan_account)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/GarrulousGibberish). 



Hello!

Before you come to read or comment on this work, I'd like to say a couple of things.

 **1.** No, I did _not_ make Patchwork. This was created by the wonderful GarrulousGibberish, aka Sightkeeper, all the way back from 2009 to 2011. I completely understand if you might've thought I was stealing or tracing, but don't worry, I'm not :) I am actually reposting it because, after a chat with the creator, they have allowed me to continue finishing the story myself. 

I've loved this story ever since I found it back in like, early 2019? I didn't know how to find the creator originally, so I was kinda left to read this fic over and over again and wishing I could chat with the author about it. I don't like seeing fics abandoned, so when I actually did find their Tumblr account I came to ask them if I can try to give it the ending it deserves. 

They were really sweet and accepted the proposal! Even though I don't know if I can give it the perfect ending, I hope I'll be able to make it as good as possible. Since the fic was orphaned Sightkeeper didn't have a way to give the original piece to me so I needed to recreate it here.

 **2.** I am in no way trying to rip off this series or try to sell it as my own. This fanfiction is absolutely beautiful, so I have no idea how I can do that without feeling like a total asshole. Don't worry, that's not the case!

 **3.** I have already written out chapter 11 and posted(thanks to Sightkeeper for sending me their original WIP of it) to show I am in fact not stealing. I hope its enough proof to show I'm not doing this to get attention or fame or anything of that sort. I just wanna give an ending to this series, as I think it deserves it.

* * *

Thank you for reading. It means a lot that you came to read this before commenting on it. I desperately wish I can make this worthwhile for everyone. <3


	2. Fear

**Title:** Patchwork

 **Chapter One:** Fear

 **Started:** February 15, 2009, 5:59 PM

 **Edited:** 10/31/10 12:07:51 AM (Happy Halloween!)

 **Story Quote:** The edges of her lips upturned slightly at his question. "I'm going to have to _fix_ you. This is _Coraline's_ world, after all, so everything needs to be perfect. That includes you."

* * *

Thread, needle, dust, fabric, and a couple of buttons. That's all it took to make him who he was today. A living doll. Made solely for one purpose and for that one purpose alone.

Coraline.

If it had not been for her, he never would have been born. His mother, the Beldam, had made him for her. A friend and companion, someone in which to share experiences and adventures. Someone to entice her to believe in this mock world his mother had created. He just needed to keep her there with him. Such a simple task. That was all he had to do.

And he would do it well.

For the Beldam.

With hands tightly clasped behind his back, he wandered; his bright, black button eyes assessed everything and anything around him: the yellow snap dragons nipping playfully at the hem of his coat, the bright blue glow of the moon illuminating the path before him, even the origami dragonflies as they drifted by on the nonexistent breeze. This was the world meant for the Beldam's new child. He hoped that it would suit her. Mother put so much work into it.

What a shame it would be to see her work so hard for nothing.

But who wouldn't love such a lovely place?

He smiled gleefully as he walked over the wooden planked bridge. When he peered over the red-painted railing he saw the one of the only other inhabitants in this ideal world, Coraline's 'Other Father'.

He was busily crouched down by the river's edge with a short shovel in hand and a batch of pink roses by his side. His skin was pale and the expression he wore was somber as he drove the metal blade of the shovel into the damp earth with more force than necessary. Moving the freshly dug dirt aside, he released the hand tool and went to scoop a flower into his shaky hands.

Sometimes he would talk to himself as he worked in the garden. He would tell himself things like ' _As long as I work she should be pleased_ ' and ' _Don't talk unless instructed to_ ' or sometimes even ' _Remember, it's **Coraline** not **Caroline**_ '. There were other things as well but Other Wybie had never bothered to try and listen.

Today was no exception.

He muttered gibberish under his breath as he worked. Firstly digging the hole in the ground, then retrieving a rose from the burlap sack they were held in, placing it gingerly into the hole, and then finally replacing any space in the whole with loose dirt. As he dropped a flower into place he noticed Other Wybie's distorted reflection on the river's glassy surface. His head shot up immediately and he looked at the boy with terror filled button eyes.

Other Wybie didn't understand why.

What could possibly be wrong to make him so sad-looking? Well, actually, he knew why.

It was because of Mother.

The elder man was always so terrified by her. Constantly he would try to avoid her by working in the garden. In a way, this was actually a very poor decision on his part. More often than not Mother would need him for something and she would get testy if she could not find him right away. After all, he was supposed to be her husband, right? So why should she be forced to scavenge the entire garden for him?

Anyone would be irritable after that. This garden was massive.

Besides, was it so wrong for a mother to want everything to be perfect for the arrival of her new daughter?

It would only be a matter of hours for her to show up, too. If he didn't get this garden finished soon, well, Other Wybie didn't want to think how angry she would be then. And hopefully he would never have to.

So long as he did the job he was given, and he did it well, he wouldn't need to.

Coraline's Other Father took a moment to stare at Other Wybie before the realization finally dawned on him. With a shaky hand he waved at him. The boy returned the gesture slowly and with a crooked smile.

"H-hello, Mr. Jones," he said quietly as he leaned a little further over the railing.

"Hi there, Wybie," he answered. "Why don't you join me? I could use some help with these roses." He patted the damp ground beside him with a dirt-tinged blue glove.

"S-sure," Other Wybie agreed. He leaned back from the banister and plodded off the bridge to stand alongside the elder man. It wasn't like helping would hurt any. Maybe mother would even be pleased with him. Then maybe Other Father would understand that there wasn't any reason to be so afraid of her.

Just do as you were told and she would be happy.

"Go on and hand me a rose there, bud," said Other Father with an outstretched hand. Wybie nodded and plucked a rose from the sack that held them and then handed it over. Other Father smiled at him lightly as he took it and placed it into the freshly dug hole.

"So what is Coraline going to be like?" asked Other Wybie as he patted loose soil around the flower's stem, the bones on his skeletal gloves somewhat shaded darker due to it.

"I don't know," admitted Other Father. "But Mother will tell us, I'm sure."

Other Wybie nodded and pulled another flower from the bag and gave it to him. He was very curious as to what this new friend, Coraline, would be like. Would she be kind? Would she be tall? Would she enjoy all these flowers? What sort of foods did she like? What color were her eyes? What sort of interests did she have? Maybe she would like science? Or maybe she liked to act?

All in all, he couldn't have been more thrilled to finally have a new friend. Even though he had only been born mere hours before, he couldn't wait to be around someone new. It wasn't so much that he hated being around the other people, they were just too much alike. Every time he would try to converse with one of them it was no better than trying to talk to a wall. Yes, each one had their own personality, in a way, but not a single one had individual thoughts. They only focused on two things.

Please the Beldam and please Coraline.

It didn't take long for him to grow bored of them. So, in the meantime, he settled with roaming around the house and garden. That was all the farther he was admitted to go. Well, that was all the farther this world went. But that was alright with him. He wouldn't be bored for too long. In the interim, he would preoccupy himself by helping with the garden.

Pass by pass and rose by rose the riverbank gradually was spread with joyous pink flowers. Other Father gave a feeble smile as he surveyed their handiwork.

"Nice work, Wybie," he declared triumphantly as he set both of his hands on his waist. "I do believe that we're done. Now all we have to do is wait."

Other Wybie nodded happily and tapped the tips of his fingers together. The toe of his boot nudged against something, and he looked down. The shovel gleamed silver in the moonlight, reflecting back in his eyes. For a moment he just stared at it, enraptured, but then he reached down and ran a finger along the edge. It was sharp, but only just cut through a few threads. It could do so much more damage, though, if used in such a way. He pulled his hand back to his chest and looked away.

That was when he heard it.

"Oh, Wybourne dear," called the tentative voice of his mother. The man beside him went rigid with fear. With a disapproving shake of his head, Other Wybie left the man's side to trek across the flourishing garden. He hadn't noticed when he first passed by, but the snapdragons were more of a nuisance than anything else. They kept rushing his shoes as he tried to pass and on more than one occasion he was forced to his knees.

With some effort, however, he did manage to escape the garden.

When he arrived at the house he was presented with the image of his mother, her stout figure sitting on the metal bench and her black button eyes looking at him endearingly.

"H-hello, mother," he stammered as he tripped up the steps.

Her smile widened a bit at his voice.

"There you are, Wybie dear. I was getting worried you wouldn't show." She uncrossed her legs and stood so that she could place a comforting hand on his shoulder. For some reason, this all seemed different that normal. Her fingers felt cold as they dug a little too tightly into his coat and her smile sent a chill down his spine in the most unpleasant of ways.

"Did you w-want someth-thing, mother?" he tried. Her fingernails were now almost painfully tight as they wrenched themselves further into the slippery fabric, he could almost feel them brush against the fabric of his skin beneath.

"Well, yes, you see, Wybie, it seems like Coraline rather likes being in the company of those who don't talk very much." She kneeled down so that she was button-eye level to him. He felt like his insides were being iced over as he stared. He no longer felt the warmth he had felt before emitting from her.

"O-okay, I-I won't talk much then," he began and tried to back up slowly, hoping her grasp would release in the process.

"I don't think you understand," she announced, her voice full of malevolence as she drew him back to her. For some reason her face seemed more narrow than it did before, and he could have sworn that she was about four inches taller now.

"Wh-what don't I und-derst-stand?" He lifted his hand to his shoulder as her nails finally punctured the fabric, only to have his wrist gripped with the iron grasp of the Beldam. No, this could not be the same person that had created him. This _couldn't_ be his Mother.

The edges of her lips upturned slightly at his question.

"I'm going to have to _fix_ you. This is _Coraline's_ world, after all, so everything needs to be perfect. That includes you." Her grin widened as she stood straighter; now a full foot taller than she had been. Her face was tapered and her once plump figure now elongated and gaunt. She began to drag him into the house.

_Run._

The single word shot through his mind like a bullet from a gun.

_Get away._

He yelped and tried to pull from the Beldam's grasp with all his might. It was no use. She out powered him without even the slightest effort. Still, he tried to fight. He wriggled in her grip futilely and swung his limbs in every which way. But nothing worked.

"Don't be such a brat," the Beldam chided as she turned down the narrow stairwell that led to the basement. This was the place no one ever went near. It was sort of an unspoken rule between the residents of this world. No one went near there, and no one spoke of it. He hadn't known why then.

But he did now.

It was the Beldam's workshop.

And so for the first time in his immensely short life in this false world, Wybie felt a feeling he would come to understand all too well.

_Fear._

* * *

"Aaahhh!" screamed the voice of a young boy in the darkness. His eyes scanned the pitch black void of his room. Searching for the threat that seemed so near; the long gangly figure that sent dread into his heart.

But there was nothing.

"Wybourne, is that you?" asked a bleary voice from a room far away.

Wybie took a moment to settle his nerves before replying, "Yes, Gramma, It's just me. Go back to sleep." He placed a shaky hand on his chest and took a deep breath.

What a bizarre dream!

Usually if he ever dreamt of anything worth remembering, nightmare or not, it would involve some sort of technology or something else involving science. But this…was like nothing he had _ever_ dreamed of before. What would inspire him to dream of a world where all the people he knew—including himself—had buttons for eyes? And this world was meant for Coraline? Why—even if it was just his subconscious—would he create a world for her? And what of this 'Beldam' woman he had referred to as his mother?

He groaned and placed his head on his bent knees and ran a hand through his curly, rust-colored hair; a habit he obtained from years of lonely nights just like this. The dream had really rattled him up. His heart was still drumming in his chest, his hands shook with panic, and tiny drops of cold sweat were beginning to bead up on his face and neck.

He attempted to take deep breaths to try and stabilize himself, but to little avail. Really the only thing it managed to do was make him light-headed. Still, the beating of his heart was beginning to pound a little less harshly and his trembling hands were less tense the more time elapsed.

After a few more minutes of silence he was able to lie back down upon his dark blue sheets. Lie back down, yes, but not fall back asleep. So, instead, he let his mind wonder idly through the aspects of his dream. Why had it seemed so real when it obviously was so false? The entire thing was so outlandish. Besides, he hadn't even ever seen Coraline's _real_ father, so how could he make a copy? And the Beldam…maybe she was from some science fiction book he had read?

He grumbled irritably as he glared at the poster of Albert Einstein on his ceiling. There was no way he was going to be able to go back to sleep now. All he could do was wait. It was just a little while before he would be able to sneak downstairs and steal some breakfast before grabbing his makeshift motorbike and leaving. But 'a little while' was still a ways off. And there was one thing about his dream that made the ever residing feeling of dread linger in his chest.

What did she mean by fixing him?

* * *

**_Ending Song Time!_ **

_She has seen no words speak through him,_   
_he has seen her grow through plastic eyes,_   
_and the sign that's posted on the door reads:_   
_do not enter, monster in disguise_

**Artist:** Audio Karate **Song:** Monster in Disguise


	3. Fear

**Title:** Patchwork

 **Chapter Two:** Panic

 **Started:** February 18, 2009, 7:32 AM

 **Edited:** 5/13/11 5:35:34 PM

 **Story Quote:** In his heart he knew, knew that she wouldn't listen to him. So he followed her. If only to make sure she was safe.

* * *

"Hey, Jonesy! Wait up!" called Wybie as he tried to coax his motorbike gradually up the mist-dampened hill. Every time he managed to make a little progress in his ascent he would end up losing traction and slipping back the way he came, making it very difficult to avoid falling and stopping the blue haired girl from going any farther into the woods. In fact, his shouts had the opposite effect of what he was hoping for. She glared over her shoulder heatedly and stormed off at a higher pace. Wybie frowned as he finally managed to overcome the slick slope.

Oh, why was she _speeding up?_

"Hold on!" he called again, after her. Why did she have to be so stubborn? Couldn't she just do as she was told for one minute? At the thought he began to chew on his lip. No, from what he had experienced by being around her so far, he could tell this: she would do what she wanted without hesitation. She was extremely single minded, and she required extreme, alternate ways pacify her. It wasn't much of a wonder she was exploring the area all the time.

His bike grunted lowly as it slid through the mud in her direction. She wasn't going to get away so easily. With what little traction he had, he used it to wheel around in front of her. Succeeding in not only blocking her path, but also flinging mud in every which direction. Immediately, he realized his mistake and he held up both hands as a sign of peace.

This was _not_ what he had intended.

Along with the front of her bright yellow parka, her hair, cheeks, legs and boots were tarnished with russet mud. Her wide hazel eyes narrowed scornfully as she began to advance him. Wybie shuddered and tried to lean away from her without dragging the bike on top of him in the process.

Turns out he didn't need any help.

With a hefty blow to the front tire, much more force than a girl should possess, it tumbled over into the mud with Wybie scrambling from underneath. When the bike's handlebar made contact with his stomach his field of vision blurred and the breath he had was sufficiently knocked out of him. He groaned pitifully as his head tried to clear itself.

"What are you even doing here, Why-were-you-born?" Coraline spat tetchily.

He didn't have a reply. Instead he settled for lying completely still with his eyes closed. Brawn had never really been his strong suit, so after a blow to the stomach he was pretty much down for the count. Maybe when he stopped seeing stars he would respond. Before then, however, it didn't seem like much of an option. But then again…

What Coraline wanted, Coraline got.

With a moody growl she circled the fallen bike so that she was standing in front of him. He looked up blankly to her frowning face. Only when she offered her hand did he take the hint. He held up a wobbly arm and was simultaneously lugged, through the mud, out from underneath the bike. Once free of the bike's weight he was immediately released and fell, rather heavily, into a big puddle. When the cold water splashed his face he lurched upright. Lucky for him, only his hair got wet, seeing as his jacket was waterproof.

He shook his head quickly to remove excess water from his face. The mix of cold water along with the chilling fog was stinging his skin painfully. "Jeez, Jonesy, there wasn't any real _need_ for that, was there?" he questioned lowly as he stood. "Besides, I only wanted to know if you had gotten the doll or not," he continued, giving his hair another shake for good measure.

The moody girl huffed at him. "Yeah, I did. What was that all about, anyways? Is that your freaky way of telling me you like me?"

Wybie temporarily froze at her words, though that didn't really make much sense. He felt as if someone had just put him into a steam compressor the way his face was lighting up. "N-no, nothing like that," he rectified. "I just thought, you know, since it looked like you, shouldn't you be the one to give it to?" He bent over quickly to grasp the bike's handlebar. That was another innovation he would need to make. Lighter. Much lighter.

"Oh, come on. It was _exactly_ like me! It had my blue hair, my freckles, my yellow rain coat, my barrette…no way you just found that lying around the house." She pointed out each of the characteristics she listed while she went, as if amplifying her point.

He set his bike aside by leaning it on a tree and answered, with as much determination as he could, "Well, I did." He gave her and appraising look. She was holding another tree branch (not poison oak, this time) in her left hand while her right held a backpack to match her bright yellow ensemble. "What are you doing today? Looking for more abandoned wells?"

Coraline frowned and crossed her arms. "No, I'm not, not that it's any of your business. I'm just exploring." She gestured to her bag. "I've got everything I need here to do so."

After thinking for a moment, Wybie replied, "Why don't I go with you? I know this place like the back of my hand." He held up his skeletal glove-covered hand to her.

Her frown just deepened as her eyes surveyed the dirty fabric. "I don't need your help, Why-were-you-born. I can explore well enough on my own, thank you very much," she snipped. Wybie frowned at her sulkily before bobbing his head so that his mask slid over his face. The sudden change in appearance didn't even faze her. In fact, she even made a point in telling him so. "You know, you should keep that mask on more often. Maybe you won't scare as many people."

He ignored her. A difficult task for some, but not so much when your mind is preoccupied elsewhere. Like Wybie's. Though, it wasn't that he wasn't thinking about her; just not what she was saying at the precise moment. No, instead he was much more concerned with the images of her, lost in the woods, alone, at night, and in the fog. What if she couldn't find her way back? What if she ran into a wild animal? Or what if she were to not see a cliff face and wander a bit too close? His heart began to thud anxiously in his chest. She really shouldn't just go off all by herself. Fine, if she wouldn't let him come, then maybe he could scare her out of even going.

"Okay, go if you want. Just do us all a favor and look out for the Beldam," he tried. Maybe, since she had scared him so badly, it would have a similar effect on Coraline. For now, however, she just crossed her arms expectantly.

"And what is the _'Beldam'?"_ she asked.

Wybie ducked his head to the side as he went to retrieve his bike, scouring his mind for details of his dream as he did so. It wasn't too difficult. A face like hers was impossible to forget.

"Well, I guess you could say she's a walking skeleton. She's around ten feet tall, she's got metal claws for hands, and…for eyes she had coal-black buttons sewed into her skull!" He peered over his shoulder so he could get a good look at her expression. Her eyes were a bit wider and her mouth slightly agape.

Plan: Shock Coraline into NOT Going: Success.

"Buttons?" she asked warily. "She has button eyes?" her voice quavered ever so slightly as she asked. Wybie's mouth fell open slightly.

 _Buttons?_ Of all things in that description to scare her…it was the _buttons?_

What was wrong with her?

Oh well, might as well sell it.

"Yep, beady-black-button eyes. She's so frightening that even the toughest of men wouldn't dare approach her, let alone a little girl. They say that she wanders around in the forest on foggy days like this. Just waiting for someone to get lost so she can steal their soul and make them into one of her button eyed-henchmen!"

Coraline didn't buy it at all.

"You're so full of it!" she yelled and threw a punch directed at his unprotected arm. He winced as her fist connected with him. Why was she so violent?

"Ow, Jonesy, that hurt!" he protested and rubbed his injury gently. She just stuck out her tongue childishly at him and re-crossed her arms. It was no use. There was no way that he was going to convince her otherwise.

"Okay, okay, so I was fudging the truth a bit," he admitted. "But you really should be careful. It's really to get lost in the woods around here. 'Specially when the fog sets in, like it has," he added.

Coraline nodded her head exasperatedly.

"Fine, I'll be _careful._ Can I go now or were you planning on splashing me with more mud?"

Wybie shook his head and moved his bike so that she could pass. She sent him an apprehensive look as she went by before disappearing into the forest's depths. In his heart he knew—knew that she wouldn't listen to him.

So he followed her.

If only to make sure she was safe.

* * *

Quietly as he could, he trailed after her. He watched from the shadows as she absently walked along various, invisible game trails, along fallen tree trunks, and in and out of small caves, noting every bit of oddly colored moss, mushroom, and flower as she went. The farther she went into the forest, however, the more unnerved he became, and it seemed to be taking her longer and longer to emerge from the rock faces she wandered into. In fact, the one she had most recently walked into…

She hadn't come out of.

He had waited…and waited…and waited…and waited…

And quite frankly, he'd had enough of it.

So he slid from his hiding place in the low-lying ferns and trudged through the other underbrush, trying to avoid snagging his jacket, to the cave's mouth. Inside he could see close to nothing. The small rays of light did little to illuminate the cave's features for him. The rocky floor beneath his boots crackled with each step he took and the sound echoed on the stone walls around him. He hurried on.

"Coraline?" he called softly. His voice repeated itself continuously through the dark void. He clasped his hands together anxiously. Oh, where was she? Hopefully not hurt, or lost, or—

"AAHHH!"

Coraline.

Like an arrow he flew into the darkness after her, with her scream still reverberating off the walls ominously. His eyes searched desperately for any sort of outline or shape that could resemble her. Any sound that could be her calling for help. "Jonesy?" he inquired feebly. When no reply came, he repeated, "Jonesy, are you here?" Still, there was nothing. His heart leapt into his throat with the siege of panic that was beginning to overtake him. What if she really _was_ hurt? What if she was _severely_ hurt? Oh, and it was his fault too. He should have persisted more about him coming along with her. Maybe, if he's been at her side, this wouldn't have happened.

He began to sprint.

His footsteps ricocheted around him like gunfire as he went. He started calling to her as if seeking a lost puppy, even going so far as to snapping his fingers. If he hadn't been so worried he would have thought of himself as ridiculous.

He felt even more so as he was forced, face first, into the dirt.

With a pitiful groan he forced himself up onto his hands and knees. _That's_ going to leave a mark, he thought dolefully as he turned to see what caused his descent.

What to his surprise when he saw Coraline: sitting on the floor of the cave, with her arms crossed, a bitter look on her face, and one yellow-booted foot caught snugly in a crevice. His mouth fell open disbelievingly as all his worries disappeared at first sight. If he had landed into the plot on one of his favorite novels he could not have been happier. Apparently she didn't share his sentiment.

"Stalker," she stated bluntly.

He couldn't help but laugh.

* * *

Darkness. Surrounding, suffocating, blinding _darkness._ And to make it worse, there was the pain. God, the pain. His muscles burned and arched with pronounced agony from being prodded at for so long. His shaky hands clutched his throat in an attempt to fend off the hurt. He was sure that if he could cry, he would have. But only from the damage done to his body. To be honest, he hadn't felt so happy since the moment he had been brought down here. He felt warm inside despite the chilly cement he was laid upon. The source of this joy was unknown to him, despite his best efforts. Not that he could really complain.

He smiled lightly as he rubbed his tender throat.

He was still underneath the house in the Beldam's workshop. He had been restrained here long enough to miss Coraline's first visit. A chance he sorely regretted losing. If he could help it, such a thing would never happen again.

Not on his watch.

He turned his head idly to peer out the tiny window that led to the outside. Little blades of grass had begun to wedge themselves through the cracks in the glass and obscured his view of the outside world. Still, he was able to note a few things. He could see Father on his strange machine in the garden, he could see a couple mice preparing for Mr. Bobinsky's show, and he could see the pale blue moon gleaming high in the sky. And that meant one thing.

Coraline would be here soon.

He smiled despite himself at the thought. Tonight, he would finally be able to meet her. The girl he had been thinking about since his birth. He had so many questions to ask her! But what if he were to freeze up? He always had been sort of nervous, and how humiliating would it be if he kept stuttering every time he tried to talk to her? No, he wouldn't do that. He had to make sure everything was perfect. And what better way to achieve that than with practice?

He opened his mouth to voice his silent question. But there was no sound to accompany it. So he tried again. It held a similar effect. No. No, this _couldn't_ be happening. Was this what the Beldam done when she was _fixing_ him? She made him mute? He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. Both of which he could not. Instead, he settled for banging his fists against the wall he was propped up against. Now what? He would never be able to ask her all the questions that burned inside him. He would never be able to tell her the kind things he was sure she deserved to hear. And, most important of all, he wouldn't be able to tell her to run. Run away from this place and never return.

Maybe that was the Beldam's plan all along.

"Wybie?" asked a chiming voice. He would not be fooled by it. He knew what sort of _monster_ it belonged to. He ducked his head and wrapped his arms around his knees defensively. If she thought she would get her hands on him again; she had another thing coming. "Wybie dear? Are you awake?"

Of _course_ he was awake. Did she honestly think he was _sleeping_ throughout her torture? He'd been awake for every needle puncture and stitch she had enforced upon him.

Her soft steps sounded through the silence of the room like the ticking of a clock. Rhythmically. _Tick-tock. Tick-tock._ The steps were beginning to get louder, signaling her advance upon him. A spike of panic went up his spine. Whatever happiness he had felt before was now long gone. Suddenly, the room exploded with light. He winced horribly as it assaulted his eyes. Now he was mute and blind, even if only temporarily. He immediately uncurled himself and tried to back away from the Beldam's footsteps. He fumbled over the contents of the room: thread baskets, sewing kits, needle cases, and fabric boxes. He maybe made it five feet before he fell to the floor.

Now that he thought about it, where had he really been planning to go? There were only two possible exits. The door and the window, and both were impossible to breach without his sight.

He had been trapped from the beginning.

"There you are, dear," she whispered from beside him. He gave and inaudible yelp and lashed out blindly. When had she gotten so close? He tried to move away, only to have her latch onto his shoulder. Her fingers weren't the claws he had remembered them as, which meant that she was once again the mirror image of Coraline's mother. Of _his_ mother. He looked up and saw her familiar, blurry outline. Coraline must be sooner in coming back than he thought. "I want you to come with me, now," she said warmly as she began to lead him the way she had come. "It won't be too much longer now until Coraline shows and I'm sure that, now that you're fixed, she'd be glad to have your company." Wybie nodded and stumbled towards the stairs. Then a thought occurred to him.

Maybe this could be his chance.

He began to walk faster. The sooner he got to Coraline, the better. Even if he couldn't speak, he would find a way to tell her. To warn her. And if that meant that he would be forced to play this witch's game, then so be it. He could do it.

The Beldam nodded approvingly. "Good boy, Wybie," she said, right before abruptly pulling him back to her. He nearly fell down the stairs as he was wheeled around to look up to her stolen face. She still wore that maternal smile on her face as she breathed, "But one last thing. Don't forget to always _smile._ " She leaned down so that her button eyes bore into his own. His insides were once again gripped by ice as he tried to struggle away.

Nothing about her expression faltered as she whispered ever so quietly into his ear, "Or else."

* * *

**_Ending Song Time!_ **

_I can see what a knife's meant to be,_

_And you'll never know how I came to foresee, see, see._

_My faith in believing is stronger than lifelines and ties,_

_With the glimmer of metal my moment is ready to strike._

**Artist:** Iron Maiden **Song:** Killers


	4. Now That We Meet

**Title:** Patchwork

 **Chapter Three:** Now That We Meet

 **Started:** August 22, 2009, 10:14:34 PM

 **Edited:** 5/14/11 02:01:19 PM

 **Story Quote:** Too bad she couldn't see the monster as he so plainly could. Poor thing.

* * *

Smile.

Don't forget to _always_ smile.

He was to act as if enjoying every moment to the fullest. Even if it was a complete hell...

Muffled noises could be heard from the other side of the door. The soft murmured lies seethed between the teeth of that... _thing._ The button eyes of the boy on the veranda were downcast. Tonight, the night he had planned and hoped for since his creation, had finally arrived. Yet it was not what he had so hoped it would be, at least, not so far. No, he was only concerned about one thing.

He _had_ to let Coraline know about the 'Other Mother'.

And he had to do so without the Beldam knowing.

But...how could he do that without his voice?

Creaky floorboards softly screamed as he padded back and forth among them. What was he to do? He couldn't try to write it out, for he had never learned to do so. Or...maybe he had, but he wasn't sure. Besides, it probably wouldn't even work. Those circus mice, her spies, would alert her before Coraline could ever make it to the door to run. He couldn't try and force her through that door himself, either. Not with the Beldam leering over the girl's shoulder. Pampering her, yielding to her every whim, anything in order to get her to stay.

Other Wybie glared mercilessly at the wooden planks beneath him. He had to do something. Anything. But what could he do? The voices suddenly became shushed. He could hear the lofty footsteps leading to the door.

Showtime.

_Smile!_

The door swung open and bright light scattered into the night beyond. Cautiously, Wybie approached the door. That witch with her feigned grin ushered him forward and when he managed through, she gripped his shoulder and wheeled him round. Then, for the first time, he saw the one person he had wanted to see this entire time.

Coraline.

Her bright hazel eyes scanned over his form with mild interest and what seemed to be...repulsion? No, not that strong, but she sure didn't look pleased. He wanted to mimic her expression, though he knew he could not. And not because the Beldam was just behind him, but because he couldn't help the bubbly feeling that arose when he looked _back_ at her.

She looked so _alive._

So this was what she looked like. Shiny blue-black hair clipped back by a single barrette, lopsided lips down turned in thought, orange flannel pajamas that draped over her. She was taller than he thought. His smile became more genuine.

"Hello, Why-were-you-born," she stated dully. Without skipping a beat, he raised his hand to wave back at her. Oh, how he wished he could say something! The questions itched violently at his tongue. "Hello?" she asked, her eyebrows tilting in mild frustration. Wybie nodded his head to her. Yes?

Behind him, the Beldam began to speak. "I thought you'd like it more if he spoke a little less," her voice chimed. "So I fixed him." He could just picture that lovely smile on her face. A shiver coursed through him.

"So he can't talk at all?" Coraline smiled obliviously. "I like it," she stated. She looked at him with appreciation. Now, he definitely liked that look.

"You two head upstairs." She gave Other Wybie a push into motion towards the door; his eagerness to get away from her almost getting the better of him as he hurried past Coraline. Excitement began to rush through him as he led the way for the girl following him. He kept looking over his shoulder every few moments as he exited the house. For some reason, he just couldn't believe it. Coraline was actually here! Even if he couldn't ask her all the questions he wanted, at least he would get a chance to meet her. He'd never been so happy before!

On the veranda, Coraline began to talk to him. The sound of her voice was very harmonious. It made the giddy feeling in his stomach rise with each syllable she muttered.

"Um, it didn't…hurt, did it? When she—" Coraline stumbled, pointing to her throat. At that, he had to end the conversation. No, he wouldn't answer a question like that at a time like this. For now, they were going to enjoy their time together. A small blue dirigible putted along over their heads.

It was time for the show to begin.

Clumsily, he raced up the stairs leading the upper apartment. Coraline was giggling in excitement as they stood before Mr. Bobinsky's front door, and she kept giggling until their entire world was turned upside down. _Literally._ His knees buckled and his feet were swept up from under him. The images around him distorted into nonsensical blurs of color as he was thrown from his previous standing into a revolving furry that promptly landed him, bewildered, on the floor inside. Everything remained in motion for a few more moments, and the few bright lights in the room waved eerily in his vision. His smile returned.

Now _that_ was exciting!

He looked over at Coraline who too was wavering off-kilter. That lopsided smile remained in play. Good, then all was going well. Wybie looked forward to see a glowing yellow circus tent. Only once had he ever managed to see the Other Bobinsky and his mice before, and that was during a chance encounter right after their creation. A flash of movement alerted him from his dreamlike state. Coraline sprang forward towards the various wonders of the room. She spared a glance at the row of canons placed ceremoniously in procession before stopping at the wheel of popcorn. Other Wybie gradually rose to his feet padded along after her. Along the way he impeded in front of the canons in his path, striking the pedals with his foot.

You know, it was worth being bombarded by cotton candy missiles to see her face light up like that.

_Bum-ba-da-da-da!_

A horn blared elatedly from the tent at the far end of the room. Coraline wasted no time in forgetting her popcorn and dropping to her knees so as to fit through the fabric entryway. Wybie did the same, but before he could make it through, something caught his eye. There, sitting calmly in the window, was a small, lithe, black figure. It was perched boldly in the ghostly moonlight; head raised high and thin tail twitching fluidly from side to side. There was something… different…about this creature. Even in its stony silence, Wybie could feel the emotion it emitted, the cool indifference and wary suspicion that lingered behind it.

Another creation from the Beldam? A spy, perhaps? To watch over him, to make sure he didn't mess up her elaborate scheme?

Other Wybie shivered and followed Coraline into the tent.

* * *

Squish, squish, squish, squish, squish.

Wybie paced back and forth in the damp mud and moss. The anxious feelings inside of him were really starting to get on his nerves. Ever since he had gotten home, things had been a bit off from the norm. He'd been experiencing strange flashes for about the past hour. More frequently as the night progressed. They were so vivid, though, and so full of emotion that they had kept him from going to sleep.

Thus why he was now marching like a madman through the mud.

_Bright yellow fabric fell around him. He felt apprehensive as he moved on. He could see a smiling face on the other side of the cloth; it made him feel slightly more at ease._

Wybie ran a skeletal hand over his weary face. He felt like he was seeing two things at once. One being the reality before him, then, overlapping that image, was the scene in his mind. He almost felt ill as he continued to pace, but he couldn't stop. Stopping almost seemed like giving in. His feet trudging through the mess of mud was the only thing that appeared to tie him to this world.

_Horns melodically blared around him. Squeaking in a pleasant, upbeat sort of way. He was smiling happily. What fun! A flash of blue and another smile drew his attention. Such a great night!_

Growling in frustration, Wybie banged his fist against the trunk of a birch. What the heck was going on? Should he be worried? Was he hallucinating? Maybe he should tell Gramma, get a ride to the doctor. No, maybe it would simply go away on its own. No need to worry her over something that might not be anything. He continued to pace.

_The tall figure stood before him in a grand pose, arms outstretched to the audience. Someone was cheering. He waved his hands enthusiastically, but said nothing. Why not? He left through the yellow fabric. He could feel eyes upon him. In the window, something was staring. Steely blue eyes analyzed his every move. Its tail flicked menacingly._

He was now on his knees. The flashes were no longer brief; he couldn't see the earth he stood on. It was like looking through a TV screen. He could see what was happening, but could do nothing to control it.

_The eyes remained on him all the way through the room. Even after he left, he could feel those eyes on him. Following him. He looked behind him; in the shadows he could see them still. What did it want? He continued walking. The door opened before him, he swore he heard a soft hiss behind him. When he looked, those eyes were gone. When he turned back around,_   
_  
**she**   
_   
_was there instead. Fear. Run. Hide._

His breaths were becoming sharp and shallow. He felt terrified. His heart stroke his ribcage with vicious intent. That thing looked so familiar, so hauntingly familiar. Where was it from?

_He watched in silence as brown eyes fell shut. So peaceful. Lulled into a false sense of security. Too bad she couldn't see the monster as he so plainly could. Poor thing. He hoped, with all his might, that she would never return when she awoke the next morning. But he also knew better. Of course she would return. What irony. Now, he was forced to leave. Not that it took too much ushering. It was hard to overstay one's welcome in the lair of the beast. When he was out of the door, he was greeted by something shocking. A voice. A_   
_  
**new**   
_   
_voice. But not pleasantly._

_"Hello, little monster. Want to play?"_

_He didn't even have time to raise his hands by the time the thing attacked him._

Raindrops began to fall. Small, harmless drips of water. Everywhere, bringing with it the thick and suffocating fog. Within the time it took for the first rays of light to weave through the trees, the fog had already consumed the still form of the boy lying in the muck.

* * *

__  
**Ending Song Time!**   


_"This ordinary mind is broken,_

_You did it and you don't even know,_

_You're leaving me with words unspoken,_

_You better get back because I'm ready for,_

_More than this."_

**Artist:** Mika **Song:** Rain


	5. Intervention

**Title:** Patchwork

**Chapter Four:** Intervention

**Started:** 11/21/09 8:47:53 PM

**Edited:** 5/14/11 2:50:51 PM

**Story Quote:** _"Dear, come back to me_ …"

* * *

The moon had just begun to sink behind the countless peaks of evergreen trees of the forest. The fog had settled over the ground and through the trees like a swirling cotton blanket. All the sounds of the forest were muffled by the consuming darkness.

Charlie Jones set his steaming coffee mug on the table and looked into the night. It was slightly unnerving just how desolate this place was. The Pink Palace Apartments were so utterly different compared to their home in Pontiac. Well, that was the point, he mused. Mel had wanted them to get a fresh start in a new place. Moving to such a drastic change in scenery would just take some time. He rubbed his eyes wearily and seated himself at the kitchen table.

Yet another sleepless night spent in the dark of the kitchen.

This routine had started just a few days after moving the Pink Palace. Every night would begin the same way: he would lie down next to Mel on their shared bed, he would kiss her forehead and wish her a good night, he would drift into the warm abyss of sleep by her side…and he would wake up in a cold sweat in the dead of night.

Every night.

Charlie looked down to his coffee. The heat from the mug was beginning to get uncomfortable against the palm of his hand but, really, he couldn't bring himself to care. He was so exhausted that he felt he would surely fall face-first into his drink had he closed his eyes for more than a second. No, he couldn't fall asleep. If he did he would surely only submit back to the nightmares that plagued him.

_Sewing needles dug into his skin maliciously…_

_Sharp jolts of pain made his heart race…_

The mug was burning his hand now. He stared blankly at the swirls of steam that wafted from the surface of the dark liquid. His reflection stared back at him tiredly. He really did look miserable; bags under his eyes proved his fatigue and the lines on his face showed his stress. All he wanted to do was sleep. Really, that was all he wanted.

_The thread in his flesh was pulled taut…_

_He stared pleadingly into cold black buttons…_

The clock on the microwave flashed: 3:28 AM. The only light of small neon green numbers made his eyes water and he looked away. His mind was buzzing. Nothing was quite as coherent as it should be. His worn out mind was overpowered by every noise. Sleep. Was that so much to ask?

_A sickly sweet grin split that skeletal face in half…_

_Fear. Oh God, he was so scared…_

He squeezed his eyes shut tightly against the images that bombarded him. He didn't want to think of this right now. His palm was now a toasty red with heat and was stinging rather harshly. Alright, that was enough. Charlie let go of the mug and stood from his seat. Maybe some fresh air would help him clear out his head.

_Keep quiet, not a sound!_

_Another needle dug into his arm…_

It was cold. The mist was biting into his skin. Crossing his arms over his chest, the man sat in the lawn chair on the porch. Light from the moon was slowly diminishing into the sky. Ribbons of light were weaving through the stars from the distant sun. Life was beginning to return to the forest.

_Silent! Remain silent! Not a peep!_

_He wanted to look away…_

At this point Charlie's eyes fell closed. The persistent buzzing of his own mind along with the awakening dawn was lulling him to sleep. Peace rendered his mind numb for a few moments. Wrapping around his ankles was the ever-looming fog. It crept up his leg to the hem of his robe at his calf. In his slumber his head fell to the side.

_Piece by piece his skin was brought together…_

_He felt nauseous; this was too much!_

Small ticks interrupted his restful form. His fingers clenched into his palm and he shifted uncomfortably. In the midst of his mind, the war for control raged. On one end, the nightmares reigned, on the other unconsciousness. Flashes of thought appeared through the haze. Charlie felt ill at what he saw. Still, he remained asleep.

_The needle was set aside and the thread fell to the floor…_

" _Dear," the skeleton cooed…_

Charlie brought his arms tight around his body. No, no more. He'd had enough. Get away. Get away! Get _away!_ He fought the imaginary needles that pressed unto him. The skeleton smiled at him. The buttons of her eyes gleamed with intent.

_"Dear, come back to me…"_

_She outreached her hand to him…_

Eyes snapped open readily as Charlie lunged from the chair. Alert and horrified, he looked around. The sun that illuminated the porch was just barely visible through the cracks in the trees. The birds were chirping merrily. The fog was beginning to fade. Mel was looking at him with a stunned expression.

Mel.

Gently he dropped his arms to his sides and let his body lean forward in relief. Everything was alright. That was just…another nightmare. _Again._ He ran a hand over his face and smiled at her weakly. She did not respond at first, just gave him an anxious look. Charlie noticed the small device in her hands that she clutched to her chest. Faint and frantic sounds could be heard from it.

"Who's on the phone?" he asked warily.

Mel was silent for a moment more, just staring at him. Finally, she gave him an answer.

"Mrs. Lovat," she announced cautiously. "Her grandson didn't come home last night. She's worried he got lost in the fog."

No one said anything to that at first. Neither was quite sure what to say. Comfort her, he thought; tell her there's no reason to worry.

"I'm fine, dear," he managed thickly. The words felt dry as they left his mouth. "Just a bad dream." His wife gave him another contemplating look. He really didn't like that look. That was the face she made when she was analyzing. Nothing good ever came out of when she did this. All she managed to do was make herself worry. "Let me see the phone?"

She handed over the device into his hand.

"Hello? Mrs. Lovat?"

"—someone must have see him! He ain't some hooligan that goes partyin' in the dead of night!"

The phone had to be held away from his ear for a moment. Slowly, when the buzz died down, he brought it back.

"Mrs. Lovat?"

Pause. "I just don't know where he'd be. Could you help me look? I'm positive he's in the forest somewhere." Her voice cracked slightly at the end of her sentence. She wouldn't cry. No, she was much too proud for that, Charlie knew, but he could feel her worry.

"Of course. We all will," he consoled through the line.

At that, the connection went dead. He hung up the phone.

With a curt nod, Mel turned to leave. "I'll go get Coraline," she said. "Rally up the troupes."

He just looked after her blankly. Today was going to be a long day.

* * *

"Agh… this is so boring! He's probably not even out here!"

Coraline was throwing a fit. Ever since she'd been woken up at five that morning she'd been griping about _everything_. It was too wet, the mud was too thick, she was tired, she wanted something to drink, the hill was too steep…the list went on.

"Wybourne!" The chorus of shouts echoed through the wilderness. Coraline groaned.

"And he warned _me_ about getting lost. Ha!" Silence. Then, softer, "I'm going to sock him in the arm when we find him." Both respective parents looked back at her. She was shuffling her feet uneasily. "He shouldn't have been out here," she mumbled.

They smiled at her knowingly. Even she was worried, even if she did try to put of a brave front.

Suddenly she sprung back into life. "Wybie!" she hollered. Several birds flocked into the sky. "Get out here, you geek! I swear I'm gonna kick your butt when I find you!"

She took off with a run.

"Don't go too far!" Mel shouted behind her. "We can't lose you in here, either!" Coraline waved her hand behind her to signify she heard and disappeared into the depths of the forest. Now that girl was on a mission.

There was no stopping her.

They shook their heads.

* * *

Stupid idiot. Stupid, _stupid_ idiot. Why did he have to go and get himself lost? Like some helpless dweeb would be able to last all night in the forest. Coraline kicked a small stone out of her way ferociously. Stupid forest was so dense, like a perpetual labyrinth. He could be _anywhere!_

"Wybie!" she yelled, looking into the bushes that surrounded her path. The deeper into the woods she got the thicker the fog became. Any hope of looking for footprints was gone. Her boots sloshed through the mud.

That boy was going to _get it!_

"Why-were-you-born!" he screamed. Her voice echoed around her eerily. She wanted to go home. A lonely mushroom was roughly trampled by her angry stomps. Several small animals scampered away.

Coraline swerved quickly through the trees. She called his name again. It was strange. She was angry beyond all belief, but, truly, she was more scared than anything else. For several hours now they had been looking for him, yet there was not the slightest trace of where he was. Also, the more she took in her surroundings, the more she realized that she could no longer see her parents, and how intense the fog was. She felt a pang in her chest.

"Mom?" she called, "Dad?"

Nothing.

Louder this time: "Mom? Dad?"

Silence. The forest around her had gone deathly quiet. The only sounds were of her own heartbeat and breathing. Oh, no…

She was lost.

* * *

__  
**Ending Song Time!**   


" _In the heart of the enduring,_

_'Cause when you opened that door, you knew,_

_Well, now there'd be no returning."_

**Song:** The Hound (of Blood and Rank) **Artist:** Coheed and Cambria


	6. The Clock is Ticking

**Title:** Patchwork

**Chapter Five:** The Clock is Ticking

**Started:** 11/22/09 11:27:06 AM

**Edited:** 5/14/11 8:29:24 PM

**Story Quote:** The clock ticked on, its pace becoming faster and faster in her ears. Time was running out. The beast was getting closer.

* * *

It had been several hours now that Coraline had been stranded in the woods. Several hours of wandering aimlessly through the bramble and roots had left her hungry and feeling more alone than ever. She leered up the sky with disdain. The sun slipped through the plethora of trees in small, elegant rays. Beside that light, however, she was left in the dark. Wisps of fog wafted up from the forest floor to merge with the glow. Had Coraline not been so upset, she might have even noted how pretty the sight was. Slight shivers crawled across her skin.

"Idiot!" she yelled into nothingness. "Idiot, idiot, idiot!" She ground her teeth together as she continued to stamp through the mud. "He just _had_ to get lost in a place like this. Now _I've_ gotten myself lost because of him!" Dark eyes flashed as the light ghosted over her. What a horrible way to spend a day. Why couldn't they had just stayed home and gotten the police or someone to find him? Why did Granny Lovat have to call _her_ family?

Stupid Wybie. This was all his fault!

Something rustled in the bushes and she stopped. The floral covered bush shook slightly and a small gap appeared inside it. Coraline bent forward in order to get a better look. Blue hues gleamed back at her, causing her to frown.

"What are you doing here?" she asked impatiently. "Are you following me?" Elegantly, the creature crept from out of the shrub, its eyes stared at her calculatingly and its ratted tail twitched. "Are you looking for Wybie, too?" Coraline asked. The cat stared in silence. Of course, she wasn't really expecting an answer, but it's still nice to talk to someone when you're alone. His tail twitched from side to side coolly…calmly. Oh, sure, like he wasn't at _all_ worried. _Right._

Turning away from the cat, Coraline began to walk on. Maybe if she kept walking she would find her way out. She definitely wasn't going to sit around and mope when there was a good chance she would be able to get out of this situation on her own. She didn't need anyone's help. Not the cat, not her parents, no one.

The cat shook his head and began to follow.

* * *

Charlie huffed as he ascended the steep slope. The sun had fully risen into the dimming effects of the clouds. With a final puff he came to sit on an upturned log. Coming up along the hill was Mel. He gave her a warm smile as she too approached him and sat by his side. The watch on his wrist read 2:34 PM and twenty-seven seconds. Coraline had disappeared over four hours ago. A pressure on his shoulder caused him to look down to the head there.

"I wonder if anyone else has had any better luck," Mel asked timidly.

Charlie looked ahead over the landscape. Did this fog _ever_ clear out? It seemed the only time there was no fog was when it rained, and even then it came right back. Maybe it was just the season. "I don't know. In any case, I'm sure that we'll find him soon. Coraline might have already."

Silence. Then, quietly, "Charlie?"

He shifted. "Yes?"

Mel ducked so that his shoulder covered her eyes. "Did we make the wrong decision in coming here?" It was rare that she every seemed this vulnerable, thus why Charlie cherished these small moments that she willingly opened up. He placed a hand on her head and gently stroked her hair.

"No, I don't think so," he said tentatively, "why do you ask?"

She lifted her head faintly in order to look at him. "It just seems that, ever since we came here, things have been going from bad to worse. Coraline can't stand the place and you haven't slept since the move. Look at these bags under your eyes." A long, delicate finger swept above his cheekbone. "I just wanted us all to be happy. Instead, everyone's miserable."

The pulsing of his heart choked the words from him for a moment. "Dear, don't worry. It may not seem like it now, but things will get better. Just give them a chance to," he soothed. She didn't always like to show it under her 'tough mom' façade, but she truly was distraught thinking that her decision would cause her family so much pain. She loved them. So, so much.

No one spoke; Mel's eyes became starry.

"Will you tell me about them?"

Caught off guard, Charlie returned a muttered, "About what?"

"The dreams," she persisted, "the ones you always wake up from."

He stared back at her thoughtfully. "Well," he began. "They're always different. I can only remember a few key details about each of them. In each one, though, there's always the _monster_."

"The monster?"

"Yes. A skeleton, with black button eyes and fingers of needles. In all of the dreams, I remember being so scared. Sometimes I don't even know why." A chill swept through his core. He closed his eyes and took a breath. "Recently, the dreams having been hitting me rather harshly. I bet it's just stress about finishing the article on time."

Even he could tell the last bit of his sentence was a weak excuse. Oh well, it was worth a try.

"You know, Coraline has been saying something about her dreams, too. About an alternate Jones family in the other apartment. She said that they have button eyes…but no skeleton. I wonder if it's only a matter of time…"

Oh, yes, the 'other' family through the little door in the parlor. Maybe…no, that was just silly. Behind that door was nothing more than a wall of bricks. He had seen so himself. When he looked over at Mel, she was deeply lost within her own realm of thoughts. The lengthening of their shadows was suddenly brought back to Charlie's attention.

"Dear, we should keep looking. Now is not the time to think these things over."

She sighed and nodded back to him. "You're right. Lets get moving.

* * *

"Wybie!" Coraline screeched. "Wybie, come out here! I've had enough of this, you geek!" Her voice echoed around her; it was the only reply she received. This was truly a _very_ long day. The muscles in her legs were irritated with the tension of running and her skin was clammy from all the moisture. She wanted to sit down. A rock, dampened by the fog, beckoned to her.

The cat padded to a position in front of her. His eyes gleamed back at her like bright blue beacons in this endless sea of confusion and fear.

"Do you have any idea where he could be, cat?" Coraline asked miserably. His tail twitched, then remained still. Her head collapsed into her hands.

This was hopeless. Really, it was. _Hours_ she had been searching. _Hours_ she had looked and done nothing more than further her own state of loss. Tears of frustration pricked at her eyelids.

Snaking trails around her ankles, the fog began to thicken. It crawled through the air indolently, crept up trees like billowing white ghosts. Coraline would be lying if she said she hadn't noticed this grim fact. It would also be a lie to say she wasn't in the least bit frightened.

Just then, she saw a large black shape about five yards off.

"Wybie?" she tried, unsuccessfully. Her voice cracked with the strain of her tears. Maybe it was just a bush. The form moved, a slow, lumbering sway. The cat's ears laid back against his skull. What…was that? Though she felt like turning back, Coraline remained absolutely still. The pounding of her heart cruelly lashed against her ribs making her breathing become tremulous. The form shifted again and began to approach her.

That…was no bush.

The bear's wicked black eyes darted over the girl before it. Teeth, jagged and sharp, revealed themselves as black lips were wrenched back in a snarl. The cat hissed, arching down and away from the beast. The very ground shook when the bear took a step forward. Even the fog bowed out of way of this fearsome king.

Try not to move. Try not to move. Try not to move!

It was getting closer. She could see its matted, damp fur laden with mud and bramble; the lazy malevolence in which it stalked made her insides ice over. The cat inched backwards; his eyes were wide, watching every movement. He hissed again, the bear roared, and Coraline began to run.

Blood pounded in her ears like a ticking clock. The count was on. Somewhere in her mind she could register the twigs snapping and the mud slapping at her boots. She could also hear the heavy breathing of the beast. The clock ticked on, its pace becoming faster and faster in her ears.

Time was running out. The beast was getting closer.

The slope began to stoop down quickly. Mud and momentum made a deadly combination as she descended. In fact, traction was so lost that she was more sliding than running. Chancing a brief look behind her, she saw the bear begin to slow in its pursuit. Short, muscular legs were making little progress, tumbling beneath the giant rather than propelling it forward.

And the she fell.

Screaming as she plummeted down, mud coated her jacket, her hair, her face. Bitter wind lashed at sensitive skin, cutting into her like so many needles. An upturned root collided with her chest, compelling the air from her lungs. She sputtered, trying to breathe, but ended up swallowing a mouthful of sickening mud. Nausea caused her to gag and her vision to blur. Hands gripped at the ground below for some sort of help but were met with none.

And then it was over.

Caught in the drive of her fall, her body tried to force her forward, but she dug her knees and nails into the mud to balance herself. The contents of her stomach were lost before her as she retched. Her head rose shakily, and her swimming vision clouded the scene before her. She took in a labored breath to stabilize her body, and focused at the hill above.

The bear had stopped and was now staring down at her lazily. Then it turned, back up the muddied path, and into the bowels of the fog.

_Tick, tock, tick, tock…_

_Tick, tock…tick, tock…_

_Tick…tock…tick…_

The clock began to slow its rapid pounding; transforming back into monotonous beats. Wobbly legs barely managed to withhold her own weight. _Move._ Her mind told her, though her body adamantly protested. _Move._ And she did. Only to fall not after four steps. She scrambled to right herself, only to stop when she saw what she had tripped upon.

A body.

Wybie.

* * *

__  
**(Ending Song Time!)**   


_"Yeah I'm on the run,_  
See where I'm coming from,  
When you see me coming run,  
Before you see what I'm running from,  
No time for question asking time is passing by,  
Alright,

_You can't win child,_  
We've all tried to,  
You've been lied to,  
It's all ready inside you,  
Either you run right now,  
Or you best get ready to die,  
You better,  
Move,  
I said,  
Move"

**Song:** Run (I'm a Natural Disaster) **Artist:** Gnarls Barkley


	7. I Found You

**Title:** Patchwork

**Chapter Six:** I Found You

**Started:** 5/21/2010 10:34:11 PM

**Edited:** 5/15/11 01:02:39 AM

**Story Quote:** It was definitely the fear.

* * *

"Wybie," Coraline wailed. She crawled through the slosh to the fallen boy. His face contorted underneath the mud into an expression of pain and anxiety. In a shaky, jostled kind of way Coraline shook his shoulder. He gave a harsh and mournful groan before falling silent again. "Wybie?" Coraline tried again, this time a pitch higher and louder. She shook him hard but was given no reply. This time when she pulled her hand away she felt something coating her fingers. It was thick like paint and a smooth red color like ink.

Dark ink. Deep dark red ink.

Blood.

Panicked eyes scanned over his back. Through the black material it was possible to see how the ghastly fluid seeped through. How? There was no sign of a rip nor tear in the coat. She didn't know what to do. She was scared. Again, she whined, "Wybie, c'mon, you've got to get up! _Come on!_ " He remained lifeless and unmoving. Her body was beginning to shake. Nerves were completely shot by this point. Her hand subconsciously sought out his, trying to ground herself. The trembling could not be stopped.

_Snap! Crunch! Rustle!_

Coraline could barely hear the breaking foliage past the thudding of her heart.

"Cor...ne..."

Her parents.

"Mom! Dad!" she wheezed, barely able to force the sounds from her constricted throat. "I found him! He's hurt, come on!"

The frantic noises got louder and louder, until Coraline could hear their worried shouts above her. Her teary eyes traveled back up the muddied slope to the top, and the sheer amount of relief at seeing their faces was enough for her to breathe a little easier. To stop and think. What was she doing? Why was she being such a cry-baby? As Charlie and Mel slid down the hill, Coraline wiped the traces of rouge tears from her face, replacing the water trails with swipes of gritty mud.

When her parents reached the bottom, Charlie was first to speak. "Coraline? Are you alright? Are you hurt?" He placed a hand on her cheek so that she looked to his eyes. She could see his concern, his worry for his little girl. Indignation rose up in her and her customary frown fell into place.

"I'm fine," she said, voice still raw. She hated it, the way she let her weakness show. She was stronger than this, dangit! There was no reason to let this dweeb get to her so bad. Wybie. "Dad, he needs help. He's bleeding real bad."

Mel was crouched over the boy, trying to lay him back from his awkward position, but when she rose her hand away from him to fix a stray lock of hair, she was met with the same realization as Coraline. Charlie was over at her side in a flash. Her parents shared a brief moment in which they looked deep into one each others' eyes before Charlie bent and scooped up the boy into his arms. The look of pain that held there made Coraline's stomach flip.

But she kept her mouth shut.

"Mel, go for help, find a doctor," said Charlie, trying to keep the wounded boy in his arms from as much pain as possible, "and I will take Wybie back to the house. We've got to hurry." No more words were spoken as they ran off, back towards the Pink Palace Apartments. Coraline sat in the mud for a moment, disbelieving. Did they really just leave her there? Alone? Even after all she'd done. They just left. She looked blankly to her knees in the mud.

Then she stood and followed after them.

* * *

Coraline was pacing furiously outside her bedroom door. The creaky floorboards did little to ease the stifling silence that permeated the air. On the other side of that door, Wybie was being examined by the doctor. She didn't understand why she wasn't allowed inside. She should have been! Was she not the one who found him? Didn't that give her the right? Steam could have been billowing out her ears by the way she was fuming.

Well, what if they didn't know she was looking?

There was about an inch of space between the floor and the bottom of the door. She just wanted to know what was going on. She crawled onto her hands and knees and placed her eye to the space. At the edge of the bed Wybie's grandmother sat, facing her grandson on the bed. The doctor was leaning over him, with his back to her; it looked as if he had a roll of white gauze in his hand . However, that was all she was able to tell. She could not see the boy on the bed, and that infinitely infuriated her.

Then the doctor moved.

Wybie looked like death warmed over. His dark skin was a pallid hue, making him look downright ghostly with the dark rings around his eyes and the mud and grime on his body. He looked frail, so very fragile. Coraline had always known him to be a lightweight, but this just made her sick. Her eyes strayed to the bandage wrapped tightly around his chest, and she had to look away.

She sat down and leaned her head back against the door. "What do you think happened, doctor?" Gannie Lovat asked worriedly. Coraline could hear her shuffle her chair to get closer to the bed. She pressed her ear closer to the wood.

"Well," he started slowly, "it seems to me like the wounds on his back and arms were caused by a short and sharp object. Given the state of his jacket at shirt, I would have to assume that the wound was inflicted whilst they were removed. Now, the other various scratches ans cuts could have been caused by the same weapon, or they may have been caused by tree twigs or things of the like."

Coraline closed her eyes and thought to herself. Of course, those cuts and scratches _could_ have been from twigs, but the most likely answer would have the be that _cat._ Now, that was a thought. Where had the cat been through all of this? Wasn't he usually stuck to Wybie's side twenty-four/seven? Maybe he knew something. She scurried away from the door to begin her search for the mangy feline.

* * *

Said cat had been on the rooftop of the Pink Palace ever since their return. He was perched beside the window leading to Coraline's room, listening to every word, seeing everything. The gash on his back, the marks on his body...yes, he had seen and recognized them both.

But they were on the _wrong body._

Wybie, this world's Wybie, should not bear those wounds. The monster, that _copy_ should. Not his friend. He inhaled deeply to try and calm the nervous thoughts buzzing around in his mind. He needed to go back there, to sort this mess out. Was this one of _her_ tricks? Another way to try and ensnare that naïve girl? No, this incident would surely have the opposite effect. Then again, having such a tragedy occur would surely enhance the appeal of that fabricated world.

His ears pressed back against his skull.

How clever, he thought sullenly. Using the boy to get to the girl. It was just like her to think this way. In this sick and twisted way. White hot rage was boiling up inside him. How dare she use his friends in such a way?

"Cat! Where are you, cat?" The shrill voice made his fur stand on end. Alright, he would go now. Let the girl be preoccupied with her search. He was going to get to the bottom of this.

* * *

Her search had turned up fruitless.

The stupid cat was nowhere to be found within range of the Pink Palace. He was probably still wondering around in the woods somewhere. Wuss Puss! She sauntered into the parlor. The little door caught her eye immediately. Now that was a good idea. The other mother would know how to console her. She would understand what she was going through. And she wouldn't be caught up in anything else, either. She could spend all her time with Coraline and Coraline alone.

She quickly slid across the floor to the door and slipped her fingers into the crevice. She pulled, but the door remained tightly shut. Her eyes narrowed into a heated glare at the offensive slab of wood. Why was the door _locked?_ Oh, who would do something like that? _Mom_. What, she doesn't have time to say a single word to her after finding Wybie, but she finds the time to lock the only way to the Other Side? That was so like her!

Storming off, Coraline began to grind her teeth. Well fine, if that's the way she wanted to play it, she would just go find the key herself! She rounded the corner into the kitchen.

"Oh, there you are, Coraline. Go get in the car. Your father needs to drop off the catalog and we need to get you a school uniform." Mel picked up the car keys from the kitchen table.

"I don't want to pick out some dumb uniform. What kind of prison makes every kid dress the same way?" Mel ignored her and went out the door. Nothing new there. She blew a stray lock of hair out of her face.

She would just have to get the key when she got back.

* * *

Other Wybie's cheek stung sharply as he was dragged along the concrete floor of the basement. He was dying, he knew it. That must be it. He was in so much pain! Dust and sand trailed along the floor in his wake. Was that from him? Was that the sand from his own body? How much could he lose before he would be no more? For a brief moment, he wondered it he could truly die from this, like this, but those thoughts didn't last long before he was upturned on the table.

Oh god, he was back on the table.

The Beldam loomed over him, with that plush stolen face, with that sickly sweet smile curved into her lips.

"Look at the mess you've gotten yourself into, Dear. You've gone and ruined some of my best work." She lifted his right forearm to show the shredded fabric. Was that his _arm?_ Other Wybie couldn't look. It was too much. "Don't look away, you little puppet." The Beldam grabbed his face to force his button eyes to meet hers. "Now listen to me. This will be the last time you inconvenience me by making me fix you. You're almost becoming more trouble than you're worth."

He couldn't move. Whether it was from the pain, the fear, or a mixture of both he couldn't tell. But whatever it was he was paralyzed with it. She smiled even sweeter.

It was definitely the fear.

Her hand fell to her side pocket, from which she produced a spool of thread and a silvery white needle. The needle glinted with the same malicious light as was in the Beldam's eye.

And then she began her work.

Unbeknownst to both in the basement, a spectator had stopped by to watch the show. From outside the small cellar window, the cat sat silently, his tail twitching back and forth as he observed. Every needle poke, every pull of thread, every silent scream. He watched it all, and as he watched a new and horrible thought occurred to him. This one wasn't a monster. This one had a soul. This one felt the pain. And if this all was true...

...then what had he done?

* * *

__  
**Ending Song Time!**   


_"With the hope they understand,_

_No, you know you're just a boy,_

_So grow up and be a man,_

_Little baby, you kick and you scream, you whine,_

_victims pay the price eventually,_

_so cross and see your life."_

**Song:** Mother Superior **Artist:** Coheed and Cambria


	8. How Dreams Effect

**Title:** Patchwork

 **Chapter Seven:** How Dreams Affect

 **Started:** 7/10/10 9:46:53 PM

 **Story Quote:** How, indeed? Did that mean that it worked vice versa too? That what the real one felt, he did too?

 **Author's Note:** Okay, I'm gonna try to be fully dedicated to this one story. I've got to finish one of them sometime, so why not this one, right? :) Updates may be coming around sooner.

* * *

**Onto the Story!**

* * *

Charlie did his best to keep his shaky knees from knocking together as the car rolled up to the the Garden Life company's office. He knew how he must look, eyes red and covered by deep, dark bags, and he was getting too thin. What would they think of him when he went in? No, that shouldn't matter, they only cared about the catalog, not about his appearance. The car stopped and he worried his lip. He vaguely heard Coraline going on about something in the backseat, but couldn't bring himself to pay attention. He only caught vague impressions of some fantastical dream she was explaining.

"Are you _sure_ you won't come?" he pleaded.

Mel gave him an exasperated look and gestured to her neck brace; otherwise saying 'I'm in no better condition, just go'.

"Don't fret, Charlie, they'll love the new catalog. At least, they'll love my chapters." Oh, haha, Charlie thought as he gave her a halfhearted glare and crawled out of the car.

Mel turned back to Coraline. "I did not call him crazy, Coraline. He's drunk." Coraline frowned deeper and crossed her arms over her chest as her door opened and Charlie leaned down.

He smiled at her fondly. It must be nice, being so young and innocent, having such an incredibly wild imagination, and not having to worry about anything. "I guess I'll see you around, you dizzy dreamer," he said, pinching the end of her nose affectionately. She pulled away and hid her nose in her crossed arms, no doubt hiding the embarrassed flush rising up her neck.

"Dad!" she cried, "I'm not five anymore!"

Charlie sighed, and backed up. Sometimes he wondered why kids had to grow up so fast. Well, he'd just have to start getting to know this new Coraline once this was all sorted out. The stress it had caused on him and Mel had been getting the better of them both, and they would have to fix that. For now, he just had to get this over with.

He shut the car door and watched it drive off, giving them a weak wave before turning to walk in the building.

* * *

This day was turning out to be a very trying one.

Coraline was staring dejectedly out of the car door at the rain, sulking because she hadn't gotten her way in the store. Mel gripped the steering wheel tightly. She didn't understand that money was extremely thin at the moment. They just didn't have the money to waste on superfluous things like those gloves. She'd just have to wait and see how today went, and keep her fingers crossed in the meantime.

"So, what do you think is in the other apartment?" Coraline asked, breaking the silence.

Mel frowned. All she knew was what Charlie dreamed was in there, and that was enough to worry. She knew it was silly, the only thing through that door was a wall of bricks, but it made her uneasy, nevertheless.

"I don't know," she said, honestly, "not a family of Jones imposters." Just a wall of bricks. That was all.

For some reason, she felt like she was just trying to convince herself with a lie.

Coraline huffed. "Then why'd you lock the door?"

"Oh, I found some rat crap and... I thought you'd feel..." she hunted for the right word, "safer." What if it was only a matter of time before this wonderful dream of hers turned out to be a nightmare, just like Charlie's? It was best to nip the bud before it bloomed.

"They're jumping mice, mom! And the dreams aren't dangerous; they're the most fun I've had since we moved here." She sounded so disappointed, and Mel hated it. No mother wants he daughter to be upset, but she just didn't understand that what she was doing was for her own good.

"Your school might be fun," she tried.

"With those stupid uniforms? Right."

She sighed and turned into their driveway. "Had to give it a try."

* * *

He sat in silence in the back pew, watching as the Other Spink and Forcible rehearsed their play that they would perform for Coraline that night. Every mistake, every crashed piece of set, every miraculous drive and swing was planned. Just another way for Coraline to see, weren't these copies so much better than the originals? If only she knew what happened to the puppets after they'd served their purpose. The other Bobinsky, in the top flat, was slowly becoming nothing more than a vessel for the mice to hide in, eating his essence and withering him away. It was horrifying, hearing his disembodied voice cry out as Other Wybie walked the grounds below.

The toed the black theater floor idly.

He'd always wondered, what was the original Wybie like? He knew that as the Beldam's puppet, he should have been an improvement on the prototype, but he knew only too well how badly they were all flawed. There was nothing great about any of the copies, and none of the copies really had a personality. Well, maybe except the Other Father, and maybe himself. Was that what Coraline's real father was like?

The stage collapsed and the heavy velvet curtain swung shut so that Other Spink and Forcible to climb up into the rafters. It was this short interim that Other Wybie heard a soft scratching at the door. It was so quiet that none of the dogs near the front turned to see what had made it. He slipped out the door and climbed the steps.

It was always nighttime here, and the darkness made it difficult to make out anything in the distance. He almost tried to call out, just from habit, but the breath died in his throat, and he rubbed his shoulder in a feeble attempt to comfort himself. He could feel the stitches there, under the slick fabric. Another reminder of just how bad of shape he was in. Soon he would fall apart, just like the Other Bobinsky, once he'd served his purpose.

"Hello."

That voice, smooth and dark like honey, made his insides constrict painfully. Other Wybie's head shot up to the old fallen tree, where a pair of eerie blue eyes stared back. Oh no, it was _back_. He couldn't afford to be attacked again, he still had too much to do, and the Beldam would never let him live through another night in her workshop. Feet were running before he thought the word _run_.

"Wait!" the voice shouted. "I'm not going to hurt you, I just want to talk."

Yeah, like he was going to believe that. Panic made his vision swim, and he stumbled into the fence, but picked himself up and immediately started running again. Unfortunately that little fall gave enough time for his pursuer to catch up to him. It knocked him in the side, not enough to hurt, he noted, just enough to make him fall, and arched as if ready to dart if he ran again. Wybie knew there was no way that he would be able to get out of this so instead he rose his hands up around his body protectively. If it was going to attack again, maybe he could get away without getting damaged enough to notice.

Then again, if it was going to attack again, it was probably to finish off the job it hadn't before.

The cat swished it's tail back and forth as his eyes studied the boy cowering before him before he realized that he wasn't going to try to run again. He relaxed and sat down. "I'm not going to hurt you," he repeated softly. "I just want to talk."

Other Wybie just hugged himself tighter and bit his lip. Was the he going to hold the torture out? Maybe if he could buy enough time he could find a way to make a break for it. Cats should know better to play with their food, but this time he was grateful for it.

The cat looked at him expectantly, waiting for some sort of verbal response, when none were brought forth he continued, "I am sorry for what I did to you. I never thought that as one of her puppets..."

Other Wybie shivered slightly at the word. He knew that was all he was, but for some reason it hurt more when it was said aloud.

"... that you would feel." The cat looked down guiltily for a moment, and Other Wybie was up in a flash, running like mad. This time he only made it a few steps before the cat had him pinned. The feline stood on his rapidly thudding chest, claws digging into the fabric, not enough to tear, just enough to warn. "Do not try that again," he seethed. "I don't want to hurt you. I will not be guilty of hurting my friend again." His eyes narrowed and he continued, "When I came here the other night, I came here with the intention to kill you, but when I returned to my own side I was met with the disturbing realization that all the wounds you attained so did my friend."

That got his attention. What did he mean? That the real Wybie was hurt because he was? How?

"I don't know," the cat answered, ignoring the shocked look Other Wybie gave him. "That's what I came to find out. I've noticed lately that he has been having fits of panic when he dreams, and I am beginning to think that the panic was not his, but yours." He gave that a moment to sink in. "You two are connected somehow, and it is dangerous. How did she do it?"

How, indeed? Did that mean that it worked vice versa too? That what the real one felt, he did too?

There was a thick moment in which nothing was said or thought. Then, "Tell me, do you want the girl to stay here?"

Other Wybie shook his head vehemently. No, he'd do anything to keep her away from here. But he couldn't do anything with the Beldam watching his every move with Coraline around, and without his voice it was absolutely impossible.

The cat nodded his head and jumped off the boy's chest. "Then I will help you. I don't believe you to be just another one of her mindless minions, and I won't just sit by and watch the stupid girl get herself stuck here. But I will need your help. Can I trust you to do that?"

This was almost too good to be true. Yes! he cried in the recesses of his mind. A grin of great approbation nearly split his face, and the cat nodded in approval.

* * *

Wybie groaned as he slept, unknowingly throwing an arm over his eyes to block out the hazy gray light streaming in from the window. In his dreams, he heard the cat talking to him in a fuzzy, distant sort of way that happens in dreams. He felt elated for a moment, knowing someone was on his side. That he could save her. That maybe, just maybe things would turn out alright. She would be saved!

 _Who?_ he thought dimly.

He wasn't really expecting a reply, but he got one.

_Coraline!_

That was when his eyes flashed open and he lurched upright.

* * *

_**Ending Song Time!**  
_

_"I will keep calling you to see,_

_if you're sleeping or you're dreaming,_

_if you're dreaming are you dreaming of me?"_

**Song:** Calling You **Artist:** Blue October


	9. Believing

**Title:** Patchwork

**Chapter Eight:** Believing

**Started:** 09/08/10 08:43:56 AM

**Story Quote:** It would seem they had run out of time, after all.

**A/N:** Thanks to my friend and very crazy dream I am starting a new story. It is going to be a _monster_ story, so I'm going to make sure that Patchwork starts getting more frequent updates. I won't abandon this story, so, before I get distracted, I'm going to see it finished. ('Bout time, yeah?)

**Special Shout Outs Go To:** D. sist. I think I'm in love with you. :) Thank you so much for following this story and leaving your epic reviews. And epic PMs. You're amazing. And Shahrezad1, you get the second. You're review really got me moving again on this chapter. Thank you so much. I hope you like it.

* * *

**Onto the Story!**

* * *

She didn't believe him.

The cat's claws dug into the bright shingles of the roof in an attempt to calm himself. He was trying to tell her, trying to make her believe in what he was saying. But how could she? She'd never seen the horrors of the _true_ Other Mother. She wasn't there to see those foolish children lose their eyes, or to see Other Wybie being sewed back together and being unable to scream his pain. She hadn't been there to see just how much pleasure that creature had taken from it, either. And he _tried_ to warn her, but she _wasn't believing him_.

The skepticism was written all over her face. He wouldn't, no, _couldn't_ give up now. Why did they never believe him? None of the others had before her, but they didn't have what this stupid girl has. An ally from this side. As before, he might have been fine with leaving the fool to her fate, but he could not fail Other Wybie. No matter how infuriating she was, she had to make it through this. For him. For the puppet who'd cut his own strings.

If he could do it, she could, too.

That was when he heard her voice.

"Shhh! I hear something!" he hushed, breaking his own line of speech and perking up his ears. Voices cut through the still air, fluttering into the night like broken bat's wings. "Right...over..." The Other Mother was awake. What was she saying?

He couldn't risk being seen by her. And despite his will to stay and try to talk some sense into Coraline, he would not be able to do so if he was caught. This talk would have to wait for another time. He raced into the shadows of the house, leaving the girl to balk at him as he disappeared. The window leaked soft light around the Beldam's shadow and splayed on the roof. She was watching Coraline as she stepped down the stone steps to the theater.

"What took her so long?" she seethed, and the sudden noise caused the cat's hair to stand on end. "She got finished with her lunch so long ago."

"Maybe she was just enjoying the scenery," said another voice. The Other Father. His shadow went to join hers, and his shadow made a movement that looked like he was trying to place a comforting hand on her shoulder. The tender motion, no matter how driven by fear it was, still made something in his stomach churn. How could anyone _bear_ to be kind to that thing? The shadows blurred with sudden motion.

The Beldam had a wicked right hook, by the looks of it.

His shadow vanished from the window, and his body landed with a hard _thump!_ inside.

"Admiring _your garden_ , suppose?" she all but hissed. "Perhaps if you'd spent less time with your mounds of dirt, and more time playing your part, she wouldn't even need this third performance. She wouldn't _need_ this extra motivation." The man whimpered in pain, trying so hard to be quiet. The cat's ears picked up the quiet scratches of nails clawing into wood flooring. The man wasn't quiet enough.

"Silence! You miserable fool, you're almost as much of a worthless mess as _he_ is. Sniveling over every pin prick you _deserve_ to get." She tapped her fingers impatiently against the glass. "This is taking too long. Much too long. I'm not going to wait anymore. We're going to end this tonight. I won't be able to keep up this pathetic mirage much longer without starving _."_

Other Father's shadow appeared back in the window, but he did not try to approach her again.

"Would it not be better to wait?" he meekly said. "Too soon and she might scare-"

"And give that _thing_ more time to plot against me? To give _you_ more time? Don't you dare think I don't know how much you want her to leave. If I weren't there to keep you in check..." The sentence remained unfinished and she ground her perfect little white teeth. "This will _end_ tonight."

It was obvious she meant in more ways than one. The cat's heart sank.

It would seem they had run out of time, after all.

* * *

Charlie's head banged on the glass of the car door when the wave of nausea hit him. His vision was swimming, bright flashes of silver and red before random spots overcame him. He was afraid. That paralyzing fear that only came after his nightmares. Why was this happening? Everything had gone so well with the catalog today. Shouldn't the stress, and the nightmares, be over?

Couldn't he finally be free?

Mel was slowing the car into the driveway of their house. His little episode had not gone unnoticed. In that one second he glanced in her direction, he could not believe his eyes. There, in the spot Mel had once occupied, was the skeleton. Withered bones protruded from the sleek black dress; black buttons drove into his soul, slowly killing him from the inside out. Then he blinked and it was over.

"What happened?" she immediately interrogated, bumping the gearshift into park. "Are you sick?" He knew that she held the same hope he had, that it was only stress.

He coughed and shook his head. "Just a little dizzy spell. I-I bet I just need to get some rest. It's over now. It's going to be fine." He smiled a smile that did not reach his eyes, nor spread warmth into his icy insides. There was only the fear.

Mel sighed and reached a hand over to place on his shoulder. It was warm, even through the layers of fabric in his suit. Her skin was pale, but still rosy and _human_. The heat seeped into him, and the fear receded. This was his Mel. This was the woman he loved. This time when he smiled at her, he meant it.

Everything was going to be fine, now.

"Charlie?" she said, eyes going wide.

"What?"

"You're bleeding." She pointed to his forehead, and then lightly grazed her fingers from his temple to the center. The fingers came back in a film of red blood.

"What the-" was all he managed to say before she was running out of the car and into the house. She's forgotten the little box in the back seat, the gloves that Coraline had wanted so much. He got out of the car and followed her in. He'd just set his briefcase next to the fridge when he heard her call out from the top of the stairs.

"Charlie!" she yelled, panicked. "You have to come see this!" He really did not like it when Mel was upset. It took a lot to ruffle her feathers.

"What is it?" he asked back, first few steps of the stairs already behind him.

"It's a _doll_ ," she said back, "of _us_."

* * *

Was it so wrong to never want this moment to end?

Other Wybie watched as she rode the wires alongside the performers. Her face was bright with mirth and excitement. How amazing her laughter sounded as she dangled from the rafters. The Other Spink and Forcible dove into the wooden barrel with sparkling water swishing up to her blue booted feet, and she let go. She teetered in the palm of the actress' hand, grinning wildly as her arms flailed at her sides. The dogs barked in a deafening roar, and his eager claps could not make it over them. But he had something in mind that would really get her attention.

He slid the rose out of his jacket, and threw it to her.

She caught it and stared with abashed glee. Her cheeks flushed. This was the best night of his life! The audience thumped their tails and howled their pleasure to the performance even as she jumped to solid ground and ran to him.

"Wasn't that _amazing,_ Wybie?" she yelled, enveloping him in a tight hug before releasing him. His smile nearly split his face, and that strange, wonderful feeling began to rise in his chest. He wished he could have told her how amazing he had really thought she was. He wished he could have praised her with compliments. He wished he could tell her just how much she meant to him. He wished he could tell her so many things.

He wished he could tell her to run.

The corners of his mouth fell, and the warm feeling in his chest withered to dust. Cold, lifeless dust. H-hadn't the cat said that he was going to talk to her? Hadn't he promised he would do all he could to get her to leave? What happened? There wasn't much time left. The Beldam had already let the pieces of the game that were no longer of any use to her die, to conserve her own energy. She was hungry, and she was getting desperate. There wasn't any time left to waste.

He followed her prancing footsteps up the stone stairwell. The Beldam was there, in that stolen body of Coraline's mother, with that stolen smile that spread just a little too wide. Other Father was there, too, just smiling in that faked, dead way he had. Something was different about him, though. That little defiant gleam of light didn't shine in his buttons as it usually did. And there was a line on his forehead, covered by his wavy hair, that appeared to be recently stitched. She'd lost her temper with him.

Time really had run out.

He couldn't force himself to fake a smile as Coraline bounded up the steps, ushered by the Beldam's arm behind her. She didn't even notice that he can't bring his head up to meet her eyes. Please don't let this be the end. _Please_ , don't let this be the end.

From the doorway, he saw the monster gesture to her face, shining a perfect, plastic smile to him. A warning. He fisted his hand in the black material of his coat on his shoulder, tearing sharply at the stitches beneath. The pain is what lets him look away. She was taking away his everything. He would not smile for her.

Please don't let this be the end. _Please, don't let this be the end._

She shut the door in his face.

* * *

He didn't know what was leading him there, but he felt he had no other choice. He knew that on the other side of that little door he was needed. Knew it like he knew how badly his wounds were hurting him to be moving around, and like the slow churning of dread in his gut.

_Please don't let it be the end. Please, don't let it be the end._

Was that his thought? Or was it the other's? He had no idea how to differentiate between the two realities. Every time he blinked, he would see a flash of the world that was but wasn't his. Then he would open his eyes and see what he knew he should. But he knew both were real. He just didn't know which one was _his,_ anymore.

He just had to get to the door.

He brushed the bandage on his shoulder as it roared into pain. The wound opened itself and bled anew, staining the white gauze in a ghastly red. The color looked familiar. Nail polish? Where did that thought come from?

He shivered and continued on towards the door.

_Please don't let it be the end. Please, don't let it be the end._

_I won't let it be._

Despite the guilt in his stomach, and the pain in his limbs, he felt strong determination. Whatever was going on, he wasn't going to let it go by without a fight. He was going to help.

_She would be saved!_

Some of the bubbling emotions began to fade out, replaced by something warmer. Hope. Wybie grinned as he kneed down beside the little door in the wall. He tried it. Locked. He could see a little key with a button on the end in the lock. He reached out a hand to turn it...

...then fell unconscious on the floor.

_Please, don't let it be the end...she must be saved...Coraline must be saved..._

* * *

His mind felt blank and empty. Alone.

She was getting closer to him now, any shred of sanity gone as she pinned him down against the cold flagstones outside.

"It's all your fault!" she cried, hysterically. Other Wybie tried to fight her superior strength, arms aiming at anything and everything. Just trying to land a blow. Just a second. That was all he needed, just one opening. "It's your fault you didn't smile. It's all your fault she didn't come to me!"

What was she going to do to him now? Was she going to kill him?

_Please, don't let it be the end..._

He had to keep fighting. He would not give up.

_She must be saved..._

The Beldam pushed the needle from her pocked deep into the fabric on his face, through his lips, and then tying it crudely tight. The pain was something he was getting used to now, but this was something entirely different. This wasn't cool and cynical, it was deranged, meant to harm and for no other purpose. She'd snapped. Fine, if this is how it had to be, then let her take out all her anger on him. He would last through he torture, just as he had all those times before.

_Coraline must be saved..._

She got up and smoothed the kinks in her dress and her hair. Back to perfection. He stared vacantly at her as she retreated back to her nest. He couldn't move. He couldn't speak.

He couldn't _not_ smile.

* * *

**A/N:** Guys, I'm only _ten_ reviews away from 100! That's my goal for this story, so please help me?

* * *

**Ending song time!**

" _Sick of circling the same road,_  
Sick of bearing the guilt,  
So open the windows to cool off,  
And heat pours in instead,

Perfect in weakness,  
I'm only perfect in just your strength alone,

All my efforts to clean me,  
Leave me putrid and filthy,  
And how can you look at me,  
When I can't stand myself.

_I'm tired to be honest,  
I'm nobody."_

**Artist:** Flyleaf **Song:** Perfect


	10. Cut Strings

**Title:** Patchwork

**Chapter Nine:** Cut Strings

**Started:** 09/12/10 04:46:11 PM

**Story Quote:** There was only one question. What now?

**Author's Note:** This is the chapter I've been waiting to write about! Be excited, be very excited! The 100 reviews goal thing worked out really well. Since this was my favorite chapter, I wrote it fast enough that, as a tribute to how awesome you all are, I get to post it immediately (well, within a day or two) after making my goal.

A little side note for the story. For anyone who has heard the Coraline soundtrack (my favorite) you probably know the song 'Dreaming'. That is my favorite song. Anyways, the male singer in there, I've always pictured him as the Other Father. It just clicks for me. So that's where the scene comes from. And anyone who paid close enough attention to the end of the song will hear Teri Hatcher (Other Mother) humming at the end. I did not make that up! :D If you guys don't know the song, you might want to look it up on YouTube or something. It will probably help you understand a little more.

**Shout Outs Go To:** Shahrezad1. I already sent you an epic reply (which I'm not actually sure if it sent or not), but I wanted to put here how much your reviews have been meaining to me. :) I hope you like this chapter! Just so everyone knows, I didn't originally plan on really explaining how Mel and Charlie got captured, for I really didn't have any ideas, but reviews can do wonders for me and my muse's inspirations. :D And I give a round of applause to LizziGolden! Thank you for being my 100th reviewer! :D You guys are so nice to me. Be careful, or you might give me a big head!

And I keep forgetting to mention this: thanks to **BlueItem** for editing for me. Even though they may only be quick run-throughs, they really do help.

Sorry for long author's note, but at least I have a long chapter to make up for it!

* * *

**Onto the Story!**

* * *

Coraline had finally figured it out.

Other Father looked blankly at the door leading to his study. He was running out of time; he could feel it inside of him, just flowing out in invisible rivers. Seeping from his seams. Spilling from his parted lips.

His life was bleeding out of him.

Mother was losing her strength to maintain this world. It was even becoming too much of a task to maintain _him_. Even without the strain of Bobinsky and the actresses and with the help of the ghost's eyes. This house was losing its appeal. Paint was peeling at the edges of the door frame, and he could see the rust around the handles. Little hairline fissures split old wood. Barely visible, but inevitably there.

He pushed open the door and looked inside.

In the center of the room was that damned baby piano. His most beloved and hated thing of all. He loathed the way that he could never play for Coraline the way he wanted to. The way that only _he_ could. It was like playing the piano was an integral part of who he was. He could play symphonies on there, had he been given the chance. And they would have been wonderful. They would have been passionate. They would have been moving.

They would be something that wasn't _hers_.

Perhaps Mother didn't know that he could play, or perhaps she did, and that was why she decided to put those godforsaken gloves in there. She doesn't like it when her creations have a will of their own. So she uses those gloves to keep him in place. To make sure that everything thing goes as planned. And maybe everything would have gone her way.

Had it not been for Wybie.

Had he the strength to smile, even slightly, he would have. Instead he sat himself at the piano's bench. A single finger tapped a key, and the toe of his shoe brushed the pedals. The hands remained immobile, lying in wait for something. He didn't know for what. Perhaps they too had lost their energy? Maybe this could be his one chance. Just this once...

Other Father's fingers shakily depressed the keys beneath. Quiet gestures. Soft and magical. A patchwork melody was piecing itself together in his mind. Yes, he could hear the strings thrumming, gradually growing in strength alongside him. Light, nonsensical voices echoed in his mind, singing in hushed tones into his ears. Almost like they were trying to talk to him, and only him. This was his moment.

And he thought of Mother.

He wished that she was the woman that he saw in his dreams. The quirky woman, caring for him, and for their family with Coraline. He wished that somewhere inside of Mother, this dream version of her resided. Other Father had tried to be kind to her, to coax the hidden feeling out, but there was nothing. Just bitterness, cruelty, and greed. He wished for the Mel that gave him warmth and comfort. Anything but the fear.

Fingers too weak to continuously play the song, he instead began to sing.

" _Dreaming...dreaming...dream la lo lo loooaa..."_ Little metallic noises spiked between the weak chords of the piano and his voice. Little needle pinpricks, was the distant thought. He didn't dwell on it. " _Dreaming...dreaming..._ " The hushed voices sang again, louder, demanding his attention. Listen to us, don't listen to anything else. Just keep dreaming...

The quiver of his voice soon became too much, and he allowed the song to continue on its own, fading out of his mind with each halfhearted keystroke. The metallic sounds grew louder still, continuing on after the rest had dropped out. And then a faint, melodic humming started behind him.

" _La la la la la la la la..._ "

Mother placed an icy hand on his shoulder. Her humming drove the melody from his mind, shadowing it. His fingers continued on without his conscious thought, finishing what would soon no longer be possible. He knew that he was running out of time. That there was only so much more strength he could give. Mother placed a hand on his to stop his hands.

The piano fell silent, but the metallic clicks went on forevermore. His melody was overtaken by her's.

* * *

The idea had been disturbing him for some time now.

He jumped from the railing to the roof, paws catching quick to the rough shingles. The window that looked in on the rat man's room was dark. It had been for a long time. Ever since his purpose was filled. The cat treaded silently to the glass, wary of any wandering eyes that might see his silhouette, and looked in. At first he didn't see anything, just the rows of cotton candy cannons and the little pitched tent in the corner. A flash of movement caught his eye.

It was just as he feared.

The Other Bobinsky jerked and spasmed, his limbs convulsing awkwardly as his uniform made its way across the room. Despite the shadows that concealed him, the cat knew that there was no longer any physical body within the suit. Just a hollow shell with the insides of vermin.

" _Coraline!"_ shouted Other Bobinsky's disembodied voice. _"J'ou must come to play vis us! We want you to stay~"_ His hands flopped up into the air, waving like ribbons. His voice wavered considerably, creating an echo of itself. Like another side of him breaching the surface. _"She von't let us die here,"_ he moaned. _"We vere made for her. She must stay..."_

The rats rippled beneath the cloth, forcing the rat man to the floor. He began sobbing.

Unable to watch any longer, the cat turned away. It was terrifying, the way the Beldam just let her creations suffer like this. But he couldn't allow himself to feel sympathy for it. The only thing he was worried about was this: with all the harm done to this side's Bobinsky, what had become of the real one? He was not foolish enough to believe the link only existed between the boys.

His thoughts were interrupted by a door slamming shut, and the girl racing off into the distance. Fool. Where did she think she could go? She would run around this world endlessly, looking for a way out. It wasn't possible. Unlike him, the only was she was getting out of here was through that door.

He had better go set her straight before she did something stupid.

* * *

"This is freaking me out." Mel said, holding the doll up to her face. She turned it over and over again, examining both sides.

Charlie looked over her shoulder. "Where did you find it?" he asked. He felt apprehensive. There were some seriously bad vibes coming off of it. The buttons stared at him, empty and cold. They were telling him something. He should listen. Listen to me. Listen only to the sound of my voice...

Mel was talking. "What is this all about?" The pitch of her voice was rising with distress. "I'm sick of games, Charlie. I just want to know what the hell is going on!" She stopped the anxious movements with the doll and instead slammed it down on the ground. A left foot shot out, giving the thing a very hard kick and shooting it under the bed.

The corners of his lips quipped up when the doll vanished from sight. He was grateful to not have to see those plastic eyes. Before he had a chance to say anything, his wife was already stalking out of the door and down the steps. "Where are you going?" What was she doing? Hopefully not something she would regret later. He sighed. Why was all of this happening _today?_ It should have been a great day, with the success of the catalog and everything. Tenderly, he ran a finger over the gash in his forehead as he made his way down the steps.

_Ouch,_ that was definitely going to scar.

He wiped the blood on his finger on the back of his hand. "Mel? Honey?" he called, scoping the various empty rooms. "Where are you?"

Soft mumbles were coming from the parlor room. Tentative and gentle. "Mel?" He entered the room. "Wha-"

Mel was whispering something to the boy on the floor. Wybie? What was he doing down here? Shouldn't he be dead asleep in the spare room upstairs? Charlie, as quietly as he could, walked over to them and kneeled. Mel only gave him a sidelong glace before returning her attention to the boy.

His eyes were only partially open, and his mouth was spewing out unintelligible words. Her hand was brushing over his curly hair in a soothing way. It seemed to help.

"It's alright. Calm down, now. You need to calm down..."

The boy's hands were clenching and unclenching at his sides. "Dwn...wnn...a...hrrztss...wey..." Wybie groaned in pain and brought his hand up to his face, running his hand over his cheek, rubbing the corners of his mouth. A little trickle of blood ran from the corner and was smudged to the side by his hand. He must have bitten his lip when he fell to the floor, Charlie thought.

When Wybie's hand fell, that was when Charlie noticed the bright red stain on his gauze. "He tore open his shoulder," he pointed out. They really needed to get him back to the bed. Mel nodded and ever so carefully supported Wybie's shoulders so he would sit upright.

"Wybourne? I need you to listen to me. You have to get back upstairs and lay down. Do you think you can get up?"

Hazel eyes were revealed slowly by lifting eyelids. It looked like he was managing to come to.

"Mizz Joness?" he slurred. His tongue flicked over the corner of his mouth again, swiping at the blood, and he cringed slightly at the taste. Mel pushed at his shoulders once more, and he realized what she was trying to do. He began to protest.

"No," he groaned. "-have ta go...needs me..."

But his feeble protests were no match for Mel when she had a goal. She ignored him, lifting him to his feet. Once she was sure he could stand without falling over, she began ushering him out of the room.

"Y'don' understand," Wybie continued. "He's callin' me...gotta help...hurzz..."

Charlie watched the two of them leave. Something really traumatizing must have happened to that boy. It was sad, really. All he could think about when he saw the hurt way the child held himself was of Coraline. What if whatever had happened to Wybie had happened to her? He couldn't even fathom it. These are the sorts of things you never expect to hit so close to home. It was more than a little disconcerting. Speaking of Coraline...where was she? Mel hadn't taken her shopping. She was probably sulking over not getting her way back at the clothes store. She'd come around eventually. Though he should probably go check on her, just to be sure.

Out of the corner of his eye, Charlie spied a crack in the door.

Had the door been open when he first came in? Shifting on his knees, he brought himself closer so that he could pull it wider. What he saw when he did so he couldn't even manage to describe. An expansive tunnel stretched long, with wonderful shades of purples and blues melting into the soft walls. What was going on here? Was he dreaming? He closed his eyes and rubbed them with his trembling hand. Unfortunately, when he opened them, his hallucination didn't go away.

"Dear, come back to me..."

_What?_

Now he knew he must be dreaming. The voice that was but wasn't Mel's so sickly sweet cooed at him from the other end of the passage. What should he do? No matter how many times he blinked his eyes, or how tight he closed his fists, the dream wouldn't lift. Was it a dream? Everything was much too clear. He didn't know what happening. What now? The customary fear was gradually catching up with him.

The Other Mel began humming from the shadows, something light and beautiful. Had Mel ever sang before? He wondered idly if this is what she'd sound like.

"Dreaming...dreaming..." The tune sounded familiar. Where had he heard it before? "Dream la, la, la, la, laooa..." The lyrics she sang were strangely eerie. She didn't quite say the word, leaving it fantastically vague and enchanting. He unknowingly placed a hand forward.

* * *

Back in the house, Mel heard the squeak of the door opening.

"Wybie, stay here. I'll be right back." He looked up at her, eyes glazed but slowly clearing. He nodded his head and watched her leave. She rushed back into the parlor, eyes taking in everything at once and then narrowing on the lone foot still visible past the little door.

"Charlie!" she yelled, sliding along the floor to grab his ankle. The man yelped, turning his head back to look at her. A silent connection sparked between their frightened stares. Mel released his ankle. "This has to happen, doesn't it? Before it will end?" Her lip quivered.

Her husband clasped her hand in his. "This ends tonight," was all he said before turning back to the tunnel. They began to go through together. Mel tried not to let her body shake, even though it was begging her to grab Charlie and haul him back through the door.

The door that had just closed behind them.

There was no turning back now. Up ahead, the opposite door opened. Light, dull white in color, shone in on them. It was getting colder the closer they got to it. By the time they reached their goal, Mel could see her breath freeze in the air. Charlie crawled through the last threshold and she followed. All there was too see was a frozen wasteland.

The door closed behind them and disappeared.

* * *

His fingers brushed the sensitive corners of his mouth where the tread was embedded deep. The pain that came from the tender touch made him abruptly recoil. There was no way that he was going to be able to remove the threads. They were too fresh. What was he going to do now? He'd heard every word that had passed between the Beldam and Coraline from his vantage point bellow the window. He'd never been so proud of someone before.

How did she find the courage to stand up to the Beldam like that?

But when he heard her scream, he knew exactly where she would be taken. The mirror was the Beldam's own personal prison. Only from one side could it be accessed; the problem was when you were trapped _in_. It was all too easy for someone to get past the barrier to pull someone else out, and the Beldam was not going to risk, for a single second, that her three little inmates—now four—would be let loose.

He knew what he had to do now.

Other Wybie would wait, hiding in the brush until he heard the witch climb the stairs to her room. She needed to rest, now. There would be no second chances on this, so he needed to take every precaution. He would wait until there were no sounds of movement, and then he would sneak in and steal Coraline out of the mirror. Oh, but she would surely be horrified by his appearance now. The smile was stretched unbearably wide, nearly from ear to ear. What if she was too frightened to follow him? After all, how could she trust him? Hadn't he had all this time to warn her...before things ever got this far...

Guilt washed over him, slithering around in his insides. But this was no time for him to feel sorry for himself.

All he needed to do was grab something to cover his face. That wouldn't be too hard. But what if he got caught before he managed to get her safely into the tunnel? Of course, there was a very simple solution. He needed Wybie. In the event that he should fail, there had to be a scapegoat. Wybie would ensure that Coraline got out. He had to.

_Now, the time is now. She must be saved!_

* * *

Wybie watched as the door swished closed behind her with a quiet bump. It was then that his mind began to come back to him. They had just gone through the door. The door!

Ignoring the pain in his body, but being careful to gauge his own weakness, he crossed the room to the little opening. He was expecting, when he pried to wood open, for him to see the retreating forms of Mel and Charlie. But there wasn't. There was only the long expanse of tunnel. It looked dead; lifeless gray with growing cobwebs. Small objects littered the inside. What were those? Toys? A shoe? A mitten? All children's belongings.

Where were Mel and Charlie?

_Now, the time is now. She must be saved!_

He crawled, on hands and knees, forward. He was scared and hurt, and was seriously beginning to appraise his own shortcomings. How could he be of any help to them? If the event should arise and he was needed, how would he be able to do so? But he had no choice. Even if he could only be of a little help, he had to be there. He would not give up without trying.

At the end of the tunnel he came to a stop. His shoulder and back rocketed with pain from being forced on his hands and knees, but he stayed put. Somehow he knew that he was supposed to wait here. Out of sight, but close enough. Now all he had to do was wait. It shouldn't be too much longer...

Oh man, he was getting dizzy.

* * *

Why couldn't she just take the opening for what it was?

Other Wybie grabbed her from behind, hauling her out of the mirror kicking and screaming. She bucked back, slamming him against the wall and disorienting him and then throwing him to the floor. He didn't have the chance to right himself before she approached, ripping the flattened oven mitt he had on his face clear off. No! He didn't want her to see him like this. He couldn't bear the look he was sure she was giving him when he tried to hide his face.

"Wybie?" she asked, confused. Shaky hands pulled his up and away, baring himself to her.

Her look was...sad.

"Did she do this to you?" Soft hands dropped to his face and tugged at the ties. Oh god, that hurt! Still, once the initial pain was gone, being able to relax his mouth was well worth it. "I hope that feels-"

He shushed her, the gust of air from within him feeling foreign and hoarse. They couldn't waste anymore time; this little episode had been much too loud. They needed to _move_.

Tugging her hard behind him, Other Wybie ran towards the door. That stupid bug chest guarded it with its bulky body. Between his and Coraline's combined strength, though, they managed to topple it over.

"Coraline? Is that you?"

_She's awake!_

The door suddenly flew open and Wybie reached out, grabbing Coraline's wrist and yanking her inside. The unexpected pull sent her sprawling, and she looked over her shoulder in utter disbelief.

"Wybie?"

"Go! Get out of here!" was all the boy could say. Whether it be the sudden adrenaline coursing in his system or the fear, he was otherwise unaffected by the pain he was in earlier. He just had to get her moving. They had to get her moving.

Other Wybie watched as she tumbled out the opposite door. Finally, she was safe. It was over.

But Wybie had different plans.

"You too!" the original yelled, pulling on the sleeve of the black coat. No, he couldn't! Without the Beldam, he was going to fall apart. Following them would serve no purpose. He reached for the glove on his injured right hand; the one that the Beldam had purposely left unfinished. There was no use saving one that was already damned.

"Oh no, you're not quitting on me now!" Wybie slapped his hand away, instead grabbing his collar and pulling him through. Heels clicked loudly down the stairs. Move! Seconds, just mere seconds and she would be there. The copy gritted his teeth, and pulled the door shut. Fine, this was his decision. Even if this path led to his demise, at least it wouldn't be at _her_ hands.

Like madmen they clamored through, bumping into all the miscellaneous possessions along the way until they too fell through the opposite door. Coraline slammed it closed behind them and locked it.

Panting, the two boys lay on the floor, just staring at the ceiling. Neither said anything, nor had anything to say. There was only one question.

What now?

* * *

**A/N:** Okay, a few things now. If anyone cares, I did a few versions of my own fan art and posted links for them on my profile. :) Check them out, and try not to bash. My writing and my drawing skills do not always compare so nicely. Also, this is where the story line begins to shift pretty hard. :D Yay, now I can write freely without having to check the script a thousand times! Thanks again to my lovely, lovely reviewers. I do truly appreciate the continued support.

And guys, keep pointing out little things. I completely forgot about something until one of you reviewers mentioned it. *facepalm* So that really helps, too!

* * *

No ending song this time. :( You can consider 'Dreaming' from the beginning it, though.


	11. Something Wrong

**Title:** Patchwork

**Chapter Ten:** Something Wrong

**Started:** Sometime in October...but picked up again sometime late November/early December/ then _re_ -picked up mid-January. (Sorry!)

**Story Quote:** Shadows bulged and weaved as little rodent bodies emerged. And swarmed.

**A/N:** Had a _really_ long rant here about why I hate this chapter. Deleted it. Hope you all enjoy, and I'm sorry about the wait. On the upside, I _know how I'm going to end this._ :D Finally, some general idea of where I'm going. Okay, I _did_ get a little sidetracked with my new story. Sorry. D: (Though you should all read it. It requires no prior knowledge! And review it...it's so lonely.) I'm sorry if parts of this sound sorta...disjointed. I think my writing style's changed a little bit.

(You can hear the noises of my mind snapping from the strain this chapter has put on it)

Note about missing shout-outs: I've decided to stop putting them since I'm getting so close to the end. But I didn't forget any of you! I write all the shout-outs on a bonus Credits page that I will post when the story is done. :) Though the people that would have been mentioned in this one would have been **BlueItem** , **Shahrezad1, Gryphowizardgirl** (from dA), and **Jadeica** (who I'm still hoping decides to do some Fanart! *bows down*)

But I really have to mention **sakura911** because she is _main_ reason this chapter is finally finished. *bows down*

Take the poll on my profile, please!

* * *

**Onto the Story!**

* * *

This was beyond weird.

Wybie sat up, looking into his duplicate's plastic eyes. There was a silence that had settled around them that made every noise deafeningly loud; the scrape of his fingernail against wood floor, his fast breaths, and the rustle of his jeans when he shifted his legs. He wished someone would say something, anything. Just to break the quiet. But the other just kept staring, and he in return. A small connection flared.

Coraline looked at them, a smile spread wide across her face. "We did it," she said and pumped her fist in the air. "We did it! We got away!" She leapt to her feet and began pacing around the room, the adrenaline still running fast through her system. Both Wybies looked up at her and smiled wide. They _had_ done it. They'd all gotten out, safe and unhurt. Mostly.

The girl's attention shifted back to them. "That was so cool of you, Wybie. How'd you know to be waiting in the tunnel?"

"Oh, I-uh. Um. I...don't know? I think he told me," Wybie stuttered, pointing to his doppelganger, who nodded. Well, that was something he'd have to look into later. Right now he was just glad to be out of the situation.

"He told you?" she asked, skeptical. Then something seemed to flash across her face. "Oh man, I've got to tell mom and dad about this. Hold on." She darted off around the doorway and down the hall. Merry shouts echoing around her. There was cause to be happy, wasn't there? It was over. Things could go back to normal.

"Mom? Dad?" Her tone had changed. "Mom! Dad!" She stopped in the doorway again. Her expression a far cry from the cheer she was displaying not a moment before. Wybie paused, unsure of what to say. He was saved the trouble.

The doorbell rang.

Coraline's face split into a smile and she ran for the door. "I missed you guys so much, you'll never-" The door opened, but it wasn't her parents that were there, but her neighbor: Mr. Bobinsky. Thinking fast, Wybie stepped in front of Other Wybie, blocking him from view of the door. Other Wybie peered over his shoulder and tried to get a look.

A man stared down at her with tired, red eyes. "Zdravstvuj, Caroline."

"Mr. B? What...what are you doing here?" The disappointment was heavily evident in her voice. He didn't seem to notice.

"It had been suggested that you vill be coming with me now," he said, by way of reasoning. Coraline was not amused.

She said, "I'm not going anywhere. Who suggested we come with you?"

Bobinsky laughed. "Very spirited, you are!" The medal on his chest shook with his mirth. "The mice, of course. Come now. They be very busy. Must not waste day with chit-chat." He began to walk away but stopped for a moment to talk over his shoulder. "Mice also say to bring ze button-eyed one. Not to forget." Then he walked away. Coraline whirled around and looked at Wybie.

"How did they know he was here?"

That's what he'd like to know. Wybie shook his head in response, and turned to Other Wybie, who wasn't paying attention to either of them. He was just staring at the space that Bobinsky had just vacated. He looked up to Wybie, furrowed his brows, and then looked back. This time, Wybie didn't have an answer. For either of them.

"So what should we do?" he said instead, trying to figure out what his copy was puzzling over.

"I guess we follow," was Coraline's simple answer. Not having any better plans himself, he just nodded and headed towards the door. A twinge in his shoulder made him hesitate for just a second and turn around. Other Wybie looked at him beseechingly, his hand holding his opposite injured shoulder. Uncomprehending, Wybie just shook his head. What was he supposed to getting here? In frustration, the other dug his thumb into the wound, sending a riot of pain coursing through his counterpart's arm.

Animosity grew alongside the waning ebbs of pain, but Wybie tried to push it down. There was a point to that, he just had to understand it. He glared at Other Wybie who winced but otherwise stood firm. What the heck was he supposed to be getting from this? Pain? He was getting a lot of pain. Frick, this link or whatever was such a pain in the—oh. That was it. The link. Bobinsky.

What about Bobinsky?

From the blinking images that was currently flashing before him, he knew one thing well enough. Even if his voice remained, the Other Bobinsky was dead in all sense of the word. His physical form was gone, eaten away by the rats that now embodied him. So how could the real Bobinsky still be here, haggard, but otherwise fine? Somehow, he'd freed himself. Somehow, he'd gotten away.

He looked back to the doorway where Coraline was waiting impatiently. "Come on, let's just see what he wants so we can go," she said, stalking off. Other Wybie gave him one last worried look before trailing after her. Wybie hesitated, holding his arm anxiously. He was worried, and he could tell it wasn't just residual worry bleeding into his subconscious, but his own. He never really did trust that man, and he in no way felt comfortable just traipsing into his apartment. But he really didn't have a whole lot of say in the matter, so he too followed after.

Besides, he was curious. If Bobinsky could survive the link, then couldn't he, too?

* * *

Mr. Bobinsky was muttering something as he moved various objects out of the center of his room. "Good practice time lost, now," he grumbled, hefting a fallen lamp to the side. "Many days lost already. Too much. You," he shouted, pointing an accusing finger at Other Wybie, who began to tremble noticeably, "come here now." He pointed to the now empty center of the room. Against everything in his mind telling him not to, he inched forward to stand in the circle of light coming in through the window.

They all just stared at him.

"Now what?" Coraline huffed. "You had us come here so that we could see him stand still?"

"Was not my idea! Oi, mice! What do you want? He be here, now!" The silence answered him. Other Wybie rubbed at his shoulder awkwardly. Then several tiny, scampering footsteps began. First few, then many. Shadows bulged and weaved as little rodent bodies emerged.

And swarmed.

Other Wybie back stepped until a rough plank of wood from the windowsill jabbed him in between the shoulder blades. He had nowhere to go. Bobinsky seemed completely unfazed as the mice bounded over his feet and through his legs. They were much too close to Other Wybie. He balanced on one foot, anything to put more distance between himself and them.

As a group, the mice all turned to stare directly at Coraline. The girl in question froze in her place beside the real Wybie at the door. The room was silent.

"The mice wish you to leave, Coraline," Bobinsky said simply.

Immediate indignation. "I'm not going anywhere without him," she deadpanned.

Bobinsky sighed and threw his hands up. "Why you being so unreasonable, little girl! I ask you leave because mice not going to go on with you here. Don't you understand? Now go, I wish to be done with this as much as you do. Very behind schedule."

"I told you-"

"It's okay, Jonesy," Wybie butted in, "he'll be with me. I'll make sure nothing bad happens to him okay? I promise. We'll both be okay." In all honesty, he wasn't sure why he spoke up. Probably because he could see that between her and the mice this wasn't an issue that was going to be resolved on its own. And he really just wanted to get out of there.

Coraline gave him a hard look. "I don't want either of you to get hurt. You don't know what the mice will do-"

"Jonesy, I can handle it. Really. Why don't you go down to Spink and Forcible and ask them about your parents. We'll meet up with you in just a minute."

She frowned, but conceded. "Fine." To Bobinksy: "If they're not back by the time I'm done, or if they're hurt, you'll be answering to _me_ , got that?"

The ring master just waved her off dismissively and muttered something under his breath. Other Wybie was still semi-crawling up the side of the wall he was cornered against. With a huff Coraline turned and parted.

The mice focused back upon the puppet.

The swarm began to inch closer to the boy, and Wybie felt his body go tense. Whether it was his own fear or the other's he wasn't sure, but it shook him all the same. Beady black eyes dissected the boy, picked him apart. There was a moment when it appeared they had come to a conclusion. They stopped.

Then they lunged.

Other Wybie screamed in silence as a thousand piercing claws dug into him. Their shrieks of rage coupled only by the snapping of pointed teeth. He fell to the floor and tried to cover his face. He could feel the sand slowly seeping out of him. _How was this any better?_ he thought. And Wybie was already crashing his way through the scurrying bodies to him. A hand reached out and was grasped, and then both were fleeing towards the door.

"Back! Back, you violent t'ings!" Bobinsky, armed with a heavy wooden broom, swept away at his advancing pets. At the sight of him they retreated back into the darkness that lined the walls. Wybie and Other Wybie stopped for one moment. Terrified, but curious as the man turned back to face them. "So sorry," was immediately said, "zey do not usually get so fired up." His eyes darkened and he pointed an accusing finger at the victim. Other Wybie cowered back. "There is something wrong with your friend. They see this. Mice do _not_ attack for no reason. And always a good reason."

Other Wybie shook his head and _tugged_ at Wybie's sleeve, pulling him towards the door. Wybie followed after him with little hesitation. But it was still there.

Bobinsky's words kept repeating. _There's something wrong with him. There's something wrong._

They raced down the metal steps and to the front porch of the house. Coraline was waiting for them, eyes brimming with angry tears. A double-sided doll was in her hands. Mel and Charlie. They knew what this meant, but she said it anyways, in a broken voice so hoarse it pulled at their hearts.

"The Other Mother's got them. She's got my parents."

At that moment, nothing else mattered.

And Coraline broke down and cried.

* * *

They could hear her quite sobs emanating from her parents' bedroom from the hallway. Wybie looked up to his Other and shook his head.

"What are we supposed to do now? We can't just leave her parents with the Beldam. Something has to be done..." He pulled at his curly locks of hair in frustration. "We've got to go back, don't we?"

Other Wybie looked at him sadly. That really was their only choice, wasn't it? They had to go back and rescue them, even if that meant putting themselves in danger. For Coraline. The Beldam only took her parents because there was nothing to keep her coming back any more. So, in a way, this was all Other Wybie's fault. Maybe if he'd stayed on the other side he could have stopped the Beldam.

No, he really shouldn't think like that.

"This is all so messed up," Wybie groused, pacing back and forth along the narrow hallway. "I don't know about you, but I really don't have a death wish. I don't want to go back there."

Other Wybie shook his head and kneaded his hands. It was weird, seeing all those nervous ticks that were his own portrayed on another. The boy mumbled under his breath before coming to a stop. They really didn't have much of a choice in the matter. Whether they wanted to or not, there was only once way to fix this. "We're going back."

For Coraline.

The girl's muffled sobs filled the space the silence left. They couldn't let this go on. No matter what the cost was they had to fight back. And there was only so long before the Beldam's impatience would spell trouble for her parents. Other Wybie shivered as that train of thought appeared. Both could only imagine the tortures she would use on them until Coraline cracked. The only question now was, _when?_

"Tonight?"

"Tonight." The boys tuned to the doorway where Coraline's slender figure stood. Her eyes were red and her cheeks stained with tears. They hadn't heard her get up. "We'll save them. I-I know crying won't solve anything." Her voice hiccuped but she continued on. "So everyone get ready."

A beat.

Guess that was that, then.

They were going on a rescue mission.

* * *

**A/N:** Only a few more chapters left. It's exciting! After all the chapters are completed, me and **BlueItem** are gonna go through a re-edit it all, and take out all the author's notes. If you actually enjoy any of my little rambles at the beginning and ends of chapters, read now before I go and delete them.

Check out **BlueItem** 's review for this this and upcoming chapters. He will be giving away little notes on the story and how it's progressing.

:D On Halloween my hits reached 4,666, and stayed there till midnight. It was amazing. And on Christmas day it reached a perfect 5000. Thanks so much, you guys!

This chapter was really rough for everyone. If you guys see any typos or any flow errors, heck any errors at all, please let me know, okay? I don't want anything sub-par for my awesome readers.

Please don't kill me.

* * *

**Ending Song Time!**

"Blanket of silence,

Makes me want to sink my teeth in deep.

Burn all the evidence,

A fabricated disbelief.

Pull back the curtains,

Took a look into your eyes.

My tongue has now become,

A platform for your lies."

**Song:** Back Against the Wall **Artist:** Cage the Elephant


	12. Snake

**Title:** Patchwork

**Chapter Eleven:** Snake

**Started:** 01/22/11 8:08:21 PM

**Finished:** 11/20/19 9:32:09 PM

**Story Quote:** Wybie trembled in a new kind of terror. Was there anything left of him? Could he be saved?

**Author's Note:** I’d like to thank Garrulous-Gibberish/Sightkeeper again for sending in this for me to use. This was the last WIP they had for the chapter, and they allowed me to use the remnants of it for this chapter! It means a lot :)

Even though this is Sightkeepers original story, everything after will be written by me. I hope I’m able to give this the ending it deserves!

* * *

He had to admit it, these children were smarter than they appeared.

The inky-black silhouette of the cat padded softly on the pink shingles of the roof, following with his eyes as the three children split up in different directions. It was a simple plan; each child was off to rescue a single ghost's eye, the first challenge before the last. Coraline to the actresses, Wybie to the rat man, and Other Wybie to Other Father.

As much as it worries him to let the children face these nightmarish creations alone, without his or each others help, he had faith in them. They were strong enough to fight this. Although both Wybies held the handicap of a torn shoulder, they were clever. They would figure it out.

His job was to help them in the next stage of the mission. The Beldam. He knew that they couldn't simply kill her, not that that specific task would be by any means simple, but because with her this world would cease to exist should she die. And as much as the fantasy of Other Wybie living in the real world appealed to the other children, he wasn’t sure if it would ever work. A creature of one world can’t just go try and live in another. 

So maybe he has to find a way to defeat the Beldam, a long-term solution, without killing her, and therefore keeping the Other safe. If it even worked at all.

The cat ignored the anxiety that was clawing at his chest, begging to be noticed. He knew that focusing on his pain would make him just as weak as humans.

He slid along in the shadows, practically melting into the darkness, thinking. His gaze watched as each of the children went off to their respective destinations. 

Perhaps, for the sake of time, it was a good idea for them to split up, but it was not the safest. He worried most for the girl and Wybie. Both of them had a great disadvantage for not being of this world, and thus not knowing what may possibly lie in wait for them. The Other was slightly more prepared. He just better take care of himself, for the sake of the original.

Because should anything happen to Wybie, the Other would not live to see another day.

He smoothly descended across the building until he came to the railing to which the stairs leading to the theater lay. 

Coraline stood before them with a mixed look of both terror and determination. So naive and yet so brave… humans really were such stupid creatures, yet he had to admire her for it. He inclined his head to her. She glanced part-way to the cat, only for a moment, before flicking her gaze right back to the auditorium. She nodded.

The games have begun.

* * *

Other Wybie knew that splitting up was a bad idea the moment he stepped foot into the garden. The ever-present hum and thrum that had before captivated the air was dead. The bright, fluorescent colors that had once illuminated the garden were muted and graying. Everything looked so cold and lifeless. It made him shiver.

He wished he knew where the ghost's eye was. He might’ve been born out of this world, but it didn’t mean he understood how it worked. He had no special powers when it came to the Other World, like, for example, being able to sense were ghost eyes were. That would've been super helpful right now.

He tried to think of everything within the garden that could possibly hide it, but that led him nowhere. There were too many places to obscure things, he wasn't sure he could count them all even if he had an infinite amount of time to do this job.

He circled through the still forms of withered dragonsnaps that halfheartedly tried to pull at his coat. What was he to do? He only had a certain amount of time to find the eye, if the shadow on the moon was any consolation. Not enough to search the entire place. There had to be  _ something  _ to help him. Anything that could possibly be a clue, or a sign...

Or a fat pumpkin man lurching out from the hedge on a Praying Mantis-Tractor.

That worked, too.

* * *

Each step Wybie took in his ascent to the Other Bobinsky's flat seemed to only increase his fear. Out of all three of the “wonders”,  _ he'd _ gotten the madman with the demon mice. And wasn't that just  _ fantastic? _ Not that any of the other options were much better, but after his encounter with the real Mr. B, he was more than a little disquieted. 

When Wybie stood before the cracking door, underneath the tattered Russian flag, he thought long and hard about why he was doing this. He wasn't brave. He'd never once in his life even got in a situation where others relied on him. What if he couldn't do it? What if the Other Bobinsky sicced his rodents on him and he couldn't get away? 

It was all very  _ real _ , at that moment. 

He could get hurt doing this. He could get  _ seriously _ hurt. No one was here to protect him if something went wrong. Wybie knew as well that if he  _ didn't _ do this, he may also never get out of this world. If all three ghost's eyes weren't claimed, then the Other Mother would have three  _ new _ souls. So, really, what choice did he have? 

He wasn't brave, but he wasn't stupid, either.

Trying to gather as much courage as possible, he turned the doorknob, slowly, and opened the door. It creaked as it opened, eerily, which made the boys curly hair stand on end. Inside was a stoney precession of little cotton candy cannons and broken and destroyed decorations that lost all vibrant color. He stalled, but with a deep breath, he walked into the room.

Where was he? There was no movement save the slight ruffling of fabric from the draft the open door caused. Maybe the Other Bobinsky wasn't here? 

Were else would he be, though? Unless he was outright dead, which Wybie didn’t want to imply(although that's exactly what his mind supplied), he didn’t see the Beldam letting her creations run about her world, especially ones that were broken and deranged like this.

And even if it was true and Bobinsky was gone, what about the mice? Surely those would still be around, wouldn't they? 

...of course they would, because it would never be so simple as to just leave the ghost's eye alone in an empty flat, easy to snare with no hassle.

A rustle of fabric came from behind him. He didn’t need to look, to see the body that stood behind them. He knew he'd just found the eye's guard.

* * *

Even the music ceased its echoing around in the theater the moment Coraline entered. As if the place wasn't creepy enough in the darkness, it was even worse in silence. 

It was so drastically different than when she had first seen it, bright and lively. It might’ve been a few hours ago, but an odd feeling of nostalgia tugged at her chest at the sight. She wished she could enjoy the memories, but of course, every time Coraline was happy for once, the world flipped on its lid and ruined her day.

She padded down the stretch of rug that led to the center stage. Along the way, her toe brushed up against something. It was heavy against her shoes, and she blinked down at it. In the darkness, was it… a flashlight? That would make this a  _ lot _ easier. 

Before she picked it up, she hesitated. That seemed a little  _ too _ convenient. Was the Beldam planning to set her up for a trap?

Well, it would be very hard to search this place without light, so she picked it up nonetheless. She flicked the switch, praying it lit.

A strong beam of light lit up her shoes. Perfect.

Now with her aide, she took a closer look around the room. Where would the ghost's eye be hidden? The room was  _ enormous _ , she couldn't possibly search the entire lobby before the time was up.

Another tremor of worry shot up her spine. Did she have enough time? Where should she possibly start at? Were her Wybies okay? She felt so hopeless, even more when she could feel little pinpricks of tears in her eyes. She wiped them away angrily, a fierce bravery boiling under the surface of her anguish.

She won't let the Beldam win. She couldn't let her win.

* * *

Wybie scrambled back from the figure that rose before him. The world felt off balance, and the way his shoes seemed to slip on the hardwood gave him even less stability. 

A uniform, that was all. Standing precariously in the dark of the flat, it twisted and jerked as if seizing. What was that  _ thing _ ? It was so creepy and disgusting, sending off such vibes of uneasiness and fear it made Wybie feel dizzy. Was that...was that supposed to be the Other Bobinsky? What happened to him? 

He took a few steps away from it, trying to keep out of range of those ribbon-like arms. The uniform feinted forward. He tried not to trip over his feet, or any of the other paraphernalia as he maintained the distance between them.

"I, uh-” Wybie stumbled, barely able to keep himself upright in his terror. “H-He-hello. I, uh, I'm looking for-" his heel caught on the wheel of one of the cotton candy cannons, and he wavered, but managed to catch himself, "-for s-something for the- the game. You- you know, the g-ghost eye?” He wheezed. “You d-don’t happ-happen to know where it is-is, do y-you?”

He hated how much he was stuttering, how feeble he sounded, and how terrified it made him seem. Not that he wasn't terrified, he just didn't want to be presented as so. Why couldn't he be brave, just once? Or at least act like it?

The uniform seized up again, and it made Wybie's body tremble with fear. Something bulged from inside the suit as the Other moved, and then a little circus ball slipped out the sleeve. It was caught in a limp, dusty glove. It looked so familiar. He'd seen it before, hadn't he? But...that didn't change the fact that he had no clue if that was what he was looking for. Was the eye supposed to be inside of it? His stomach suddenly felt hollow. This may very well be what he was after, yet there was no way he could tell.

The Other Bobinsky rolled the ball back and forth in his uniform like he was playing with a toy. He didn’t seem to care what it was, just spinning it around in what was left of himself in his fabric. It reminded Wybie of when he twirled his fingers together when he was bored or playful. Maybe he did that out of habit.

“I-” Wybie spoke, catching his breath before continuing again. "I-Is that it? The ghost eye?" This time, he drew forward. 

The moment he went closer, the uniform slid back into the shadows, like a scared mouse. Oh no, now where was he? Wybie circled about in an attempt to locate him. A rustle of fabric caught his attention.

The Other Bobinsky slid across the banister above him like a serpent. Not a word was said. He slithered around, inspecting, and Wybie swore he saw bodies seeming to roll through his clothes. 

The uniform made a sound. It was a low wail, like a dying trumpet, and it went on for more than a few seconds before eventually stopping. Could it talk anymore? At least, not clearly? It sounded like it was saying something…

It made it again, and Wybie tried to focus on the noise, closing his eyes to test if he could hear any secret comment Bobinsky could be saying to him.

_ “Cccc-oo-l-nee..” _

Was he calling for Coraline? The boy blinked open his eyes in befuddlement. He guessed he could understand why he was calling out to her, he was made for her, after all. He felt a stab of pity. What life was that, being only entertainment to someone they knew only because they were programmed to? That sounded so awful.

The body slinked around every nook and cranny, as if he was waiting for the girl to appear somewhere in the room. He could barely keep his ribbon-like body upright. He looked so  _ hollow _ .

Wybie trembled in a new kind of terror. Was there anything left of him? Could he be saved?

“I-I, uh- She-” Wybie stumbled. His knees clacked against each other as he staggered around the room, eyes wide with panic. Be could barely breathe. Was he having a heart attack? It felt like he was having a heart attack. He couldn't differentiate what was going on.

As his vision cleared, albeit just a little, the room as deathly quiet. Blood pounded in the boy's ears as he slipped upon the hardwood, his breathing the only sound he could hear in the dark, dark room.

...and something else.

Was it skittering? The sound of something scratching against wood, small and muted, crawling around the area, nearby. The mice. Were were the mice?

The uniforms silhouette was still, almost as still as a statue. It was creepy, almost intimidating, as that was the only thing he could see in the dim light of space.

Slowly, it turned its ragged body toward Wybie. He was pretty sure the creature didn’t have eyes anymore, but it gave the impression of them, piercing into his skull like lasers. He scrambled away, but soon he could feel the bump of a wall and he realized with horror that he was cornered. Trapped, just like a mouse.

Mouse. Mouse. Mice. Rats. Was the body being controlled by rats?

The uniform lunged at him.

* * *


	13. Battling The Wicked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The thought of her staying here, with those dark, dark, dark buttons sewed into her brown eyes scared him too much to bear.

**Title:** Patchwork

**Chapter Twelve:**

**Started:** 11/21/19 8:33:45 PM

**Finished:**

**Writer's Note:** Merry Christmas/Christmas Eve everyone! So uhhh I decided to rewatch Coraline in late December so I didn’t get anything wrong and OOF I did I get a lot wrong regarding the Other Bobinsky scene. I never remembered him talking, so when I found out that he was able to speak, I felt like an idiot lol

I’m totally fine with the blame going on me though. When Sightkeeper sent me their original draft the Other Bobinsky  _ was _ talking, but I took it out because I didn’t realize he that was actually what happened in the movie so… oops… sorry about that.

I also went a bit crazy with this chapter so keep in mind it’s also gonna be a bit different from the movie again. But I have a reason this time, now not just because I’m a dumbass who doesn’t know what they’re doing.

I still hope you enjoy <3

* * *

Other Wybie tumbled out of the way from the mantis claw. It barely touched him, almost like the ghost of something being there, but it still sent electricity through his body as he tumbled onto the stone pavement.

The puppet jumped up, unable to make himself look at the Other Father’s face. It hurt him too much to do so.

“ _ I̵'̷m̴ ̷s̵o̵r̶r̷y̷,̴  _ ” The deformed creature murmured, distorted and wobbly and terrifying. His gloved hands slammed the claw down once more, ripping out a hole in the floor that let out a horrifying  _ crack _ , which the Other barely missed in time.

“ _ S̷o̶ ̷s̵o̷r̶r̶y̶.̵ _ ”

A swing and a miss.

“ _ D̷o̴n̴'̷t̶ ̴b̸l̵a̸m̷e̷ ̵m̶e̸,̵ _ ”

How could he? He was created from  _ her _ , too. He knew how she played.

“ _ M̴͔̎o̷t̵̠̽h̶͎ẻ̶̲r̴͂ ̷ḿ̵̼a̸͒k̴ỉ̴̟n̴̑ǧ̷̜ ̸͓͌m̸͘e̶.̸̮̒  _ ”

They were close to the bridge now. The mantis vehicle was unsteady, tripping over itself and falling to the pavement a couple of times. It was as if its energy was starting to disappear from it. 

If he just survived a little longer, he can make it.

Despite his screaming mind and shaking limbs, Other Wybie turned his head toward the machine, making sure not to stare into the soulless husk that was the Other Father. He needed to find the ghost’s eye, he promised Coraline that.

The thought of the blue-haired girl hurt his heart, if he even had one. The thought of her staying here, with those dark, dark, dark buttons sewed into her brown eyes scared him too much to bear. She didn’t deserve this, any of this, even him. Maybe if he wasn’t created, she wouldn’t have been allured to this world, forcing her to go into this danger for not just herself but for everything she stood for.

Did he deserve this? These feelings, thoughts, any of this? If he wasn’t connected to Wybie, would he be anything?

Probably not.

_ There’s no time, _ he could almost hear Coraline cry at him, in her vibrant, powerful voice he loved so much.  _ You have to focus! _

He stared at the vehicle forcefully marching his way toward him. He wasn’t sure why, but he could tell immediately where the ghost’s eye was. It was the tractors joystick, the little black ball with numbers one through six on it. 

Maybe it was because he was created by the other world, he realized. Everything is connected to the ghost children’s souls, the things that are keeping the world alive and moving. That could be why he knew, as this was technically what he was made of.

Before he could muse this longer, Other Wybie realized he was stalling a bit too late as the tractor hammered forward. It was just a foot towards him, its hooked claws gleaming in the moonlight. The puppet yelped, tumbling out of the way as fast as he could.

It wasn’t fast enough. It didn’t hit him, but it snagged at his shirt, making the boy stumble to the ground right into the dragon snap bushes.

The Others’ body trembled violently, the strangling feeling of terror combined with the way the vines snapped at his coat with a new energy was too much. He twisted, thinking fast, trying desperately to grab at the pliers Coraline gave him just before they separated. 

His hands got ahold of it, and in a flurry chopped the flowers lose and  _ ran _ . Ran as fast as he could before another blow could try to hit him.

_ How am I possibly able to stop this thing?  _ Other Wybie wondered with terror.  _ I don’t wanna hurt the real Charlie. _

If this case was anything similar to him and Wybie, if he tried to defeat him physically hed inadvertently kill off the man Coraline was trying to save. That was a no-brainer.

As he raced through the garden, stepping over lilacs and tulips with frogs inside them, a terrifying thought embedded himself into his mind; is this what he was going to become?

Other Wybie stopped in his tracks. He knew how much Coraline wanted to save him from disappearing, but would there be any hope of that? Would he just become the empty body of soul-sand no matter how much they tried? Did he have any chance of being saved?

He clutched at the sides of his body, almost like he was trying to make sure he wasn’t going to disintegrate right then and there. The relatively inevitable death shook him more than he’d like to admit- mainly because he was going to die, but also, what would happen to the real Wybie? Was he destined to die too?

Coraline would he heartbroken.

He realized too late how he was stalling, again, as he felt the gloved hands of the mantis vehicle at his shoulders.

* * *

Coraline took a moment to study her surroundings once more.

Everything was old and worn. Paint curled on the sides of the auditorium, looking even grayer and worn than before. It was still unsettling how ugly it looked now; nothing she remembered in her first time here at all. She tried not to make herself fall into the pit of nostalgia she felt just minutes before.

She didn’t see any of the dogs on the theater seats, but she could see something on the stage, obscured by shadows, barely noticeable even if she looked hard.  The girl pointed her flashlight at it, the metal heavy in her hands while she analyzed it. Annoyingly, its light couldn’t seem to penetrate the hollow darkness from where she was standing. She’d have to go closer.

Coraline growled lowly, knowing full-well she was stepping into the Beldams trap, but she still walked toward it. Any sound of rats skittering or scratching around the theater made her jump out in alarm. She was expecting to get ambushed any second now.

She hated feeling so weak and scared. As if in an attempt to calm herself, she bared a war face and snapped her flashlight up to the ceiling.

She jumped.

At least she knew where those dogs were. There were at least fifty; musky, gross, and insanely  _ creepy _ dogs sat atop the room, huddled closely together. When she shined her flashlight at them, they barked and snapped, revealing their bat-like wings for all to see. She turned it off in a hurry.

_ So they don’t like light. Got it. _

Coraline turned around the auditorium anxiously. How much nightmare-fueling stuff was hidden behind the flickering lights and curled paint?

Speaking of lights, one suddenly shone brightly on the stage behind her. The girl forced herself not to gasp, biting her lip so hard it bled. It tasted like iron. She slowly turned her head around to face the platform.

A huge candy-shaped object welcomed her. She could almost see an outline of bodies inside, which caused a sour feeling to bury itself in her gut. This must be where the ghost eye was, unless it was to distract her attention from somewhere else. She automatically checked the auditorium if that was the case.

Before she could think much longer she puffed up her chest, forcing down any fear that was trying to overwhelm her, and jumped atop the stage. The level was lined with dust bunnies as if it hadn’t been cleaned in months. Particles flew into the air when she stepped closer to the strange sight.

Yes, there were bodies inside that wrapper-paper exterior. Said exterior was very thin, making it, thankfully, easy to look inside of. Tentatively, the girl reached her hand out to graze its surface. It felt like that parchment paper she and her mom used when they occasionally baked.

_ Mom. Dad. _ The sadness Coraline felt at those words were swallowed up by rage then quickly into determination. She was going to get them back, she had to.

With a new surge of bravery, she ripped a hole into the candy-wrapped item, feeling around until she grabbed onto something and pulled it out.

She looked at the twisting hands. Her brow rose in curiosity. It smelled like a sour-sweet hard candy, and it felt like one, too, as she pressed down on it and felt it mold underneath her hands. For a moment she wondered if it tasted like that too, but she recoiled at the idea. That’d be gross.

The hands were holding an object, Coraline noticed. She pried the hands open.

It was a little pearl ring, hooked on one of the candy-hands. It was shimmery and bright, reflecting her face surprisingly well on its surface.

She knew it was the ghost’s eye. She didn’t know how to explain it, but it strangely called to her. Like it was bursting with energy.

Happiness, relief, excitement, they all warred with Coraline’s head as she stared at it. This was it. She could find her parents. She could go home. Her friends can be safe again.  _ She _ can be safe again.

She didn’t think as she grabbed the ring, glee clouding her emotions and making her caution drift away from her. She was enthusiastic; she wasn’t sure she could ever feel more relaxed as she is now.

Yet, the feelings all disappeared from her body as the hands snapped shut, trapping her.

* * *

Wybie screamed as the suit slammed into him.

It was odd, fighting with a piece of fabric. It was light but with a lot of dexterity, he didn’t have many options regarding physical hits or blows. But he could tell there was something inside it. Many things, in fact, moving around the suit. The boy didn’t have too much time to think about it, he was too busy panicking about the thing that was trying to kill him.

They tussled on the ground. Wybie wasn’t able to get a hold on it, it kept slipping away from his gloved hands like liquid. As he tried to grab it, the suit slithered around right to his back, pinning his arms to his back.

Frantically, Wybie smashed the suit by slamming his back onto the ground. He whacked his head in the process with a wail of pain. At least his efforts worked, as the body recoiled at the impact, scurrying away from his.

He twisted around to find the suit collapsing in on itself. Countless, and he meant countless, rats flew out of the costume, hurrying in many didn’t directions in a blur.

Wybie felt hopeless, watching the sea of rodents run off scot-free. He knew it was a bad idea to have a panic attack in a battle, but he couldn’t stop his erratic breathing and trembling body while he stumbled back up, his heart thrumming in his ears.

_ Find the eye, you have to find the eye! _

The boy stuffed as much terror as he could muster to the side, staring at the rats ahead of them. Many were simply running on feet, but a couple were distinctly being transported by cheese-wheels(which was odd, but he couldn’t pay much mind to now), maybe some bouncy balls, he didn’t know. He narrowed his eyes, feeling even more useless as he could feel the tears pricking at his eyes.

One piece of vermin was using a distinct toy, though. He gasped.

Yes, that was the ball he remembered only minutes ago that that deformed Bobinsky played with in front of him. He had an intense feeling now that this was it. He just had to hope it was the ghost’s eye.

Wybie ran. He jumped over the rats parading along the attic floor(almost squishing one under is boots) and sped through the broken cotton candy machines.

Or at least, supposedly broken. He was caught in dismay as he felt the devices flick on, shooting out fluffy candy treats right at the boy. It hit him with surprising force; one hit him right in the knee, and he fell over, wildly trying to sit back up when another hit him again.

It felt like a nightmare. The ones that felt like even though you’re running for dear life your legs were like jello, you were off-balanced and dizzy, and you somehow couldn’t be able to get yourself up no matter how much you tried. Wybie still kept running. He couldn’t give up, Coraline needed him.

One of the cotton candy sticks landed at his mouth, but it didn’t taste like the usual flavourful snack, but distinctly of ash. He spat it out. The taste still lingered.

Wybie was losing them. In a panic, he grabbed something off of the floor(a popcorn bad? He didn’t know) and threw it at the rat. Playfully, almost mockingly, the vermin dodged it easily, slipping into the pet-door like butter.

His heart dropped. He couldn’t lose it.

The boy was so anxious he couldn’t keep himself from standing up correctly, stumbling forward and spending as much energy as he could to catch up.

He slammed into the door. His face felt like he got slapped, and did he feel his nose get broken? He couldn’t focus on that much. Instead of withstanding the slam, it knocked off, making Wybie’s world a blur while he fell backwards into the railing. He cried at the pain, agony all over his body. He even felt wounded in places he didn’t damage himself(did his other self get hurt?).

As if that wasn’t enough, Wybie was sent into another cloud of horror while he felt the railing snap off.

He screamed loudly, sure to he heard from all over this other world. Aside from the wailing of the railing itself and his own shrieking, his heart was all he could hear in his ears while his gut felt like it was dropped into the void.

Wybie hit the ground with a sickening  _ thud _ . Everything felt like it was screaming, a wailing noise that drummed in his tired, spent head. As he tried to open his eyes, move his limbs, do anything, black spots were starting to appear in his eyes that were already unfocused.

His breaths were more like wheezes. He trembled, desperate to stay conscious.

_ Please, I have to get the eye. I can’t fail them _ .

But even then his thoughts were faded now, nothing but a dull throb to his ears. Was he crying? He thinks he’s crying, by how his chest was constricting and the faint sounds of sobs around the clearing. He felt himself moving, too, possibly curling up into a ball, but he wasn’t sure.

Before he finally fell through into dull black, two emotions were clear in his mind; weakness and fear.

He’s unable to look at the moon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof... Sorry, these all landed on a cliffhanger. Thankfully I already have a storyboard for the next chapter so the three battles are gonna be resolved in that!! :D (mostly, hahahahha)


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